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syrupgirl · 1 year

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Request:

Could u write a fic ab Sully family x y /n reader? Where she lives with the sully family after her parents died, she gets taken by the colonel in the forest and is set up for bate because he knows she important to the Sully family.

a/n: the way I interpreted this, reader is taken by herself rather than what happens in the film where all of the kids get taken. I did use the rough layout of the scene for inspo but it does diverge from cannon ie Neteyam is with the kids when they get discovered. I hope that’s similar enough to what you mean. also reader is na’vi and around Neteyam’s age :p

Sullys stick together -The Sully family

“Catch me if you can!” Tuk yelled. Her little feet pattering along the branch of an enormous tree, while you and the rest of the Sully children chased her for sport.

She giggled delightedly, dodging out of the way of Lo’ak’s hand.

You really weren’t supposed to be out this far. Too close to the battlefield Jake had said. To close to where the sky people had already begun laying their claim on Pandora. Not if the Na’vi had anything to say about it.

But oh, it was such a beautiful day, almost no clouds in the sky, Kenten floated around you with the unfurled fan necks slowing their descent. Who wouldn’t want to get carried away with the day?

Suddenly, little Tuk ran into the trunk of a tree and startled back, falling on her butt. Kiri rushed forward and kneeled beside her, rubbing her back.

“Oh Tuk, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Kiri asked, ever the nurturer.

Tuk rubbed her nose and sniffed, tiny little tears blooming in her eyes. “Yeah, just got a fright, that’s all.”

Kiri helped the youngest sully stand up and continued to comfort her. Tuk reassured her sister that she was ok and Kiri relented. Tuk then wandered off to continue her little adventure.

“Wait, guys! Look!” Lo’ak whisper shouted.

Everyone looked to the direction he was pointing. Spider’s eyes widened and he even gasped a little.

“Wow, bro. That’s where my dad and your dad fought, right?” He asked Neteyam.

Neteyam didn’t answer right away, looking almost sheepish. “Yeah, bro.”

Lo’ak looked like he could barely keep still, a giddy grin upon his face.

“Well c’mon! Let’s have a look inside!” He was about to spring up when you put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“No way! We have no idea what’s in there, there could be some old tech still active, or…I don’t know, some angry beast!”

Despite not being a blood member of the Sulky family, after Jake and Neytiri took you under their wing and growing up with them for so long cemented your place among them as family. You were as much Neteyam’s sister as Tuktirey was.

Despite not being a blood member of the Sully family, they listened to you and cared about what you had to say, or that’s what you thought.

“That’s why we have our knives, skxawng.” And with that Lo’ak got you to sprint to the abandoned lab. Well, he would’ve had it not been for the tussling of the bushes opposite where you were all crouching.

“Sit down!” Neteyam gritted out, he grabbed his younger brother by the back of his neck and yanked him back down beside him. Lo’ak started to protest, talking about how it was probably some harmless animal. The sound of voices shut him down. Voices speaking in, english.

You were confused. Sky people should not have gotten this far out without drawing attention of the clan. Neteyam motioned for everyone to be still and you all watched on as the voices got closer.

Neteyam turned on his comms and started speaking to Jake. You could guess what he was saying; do not engage, retreat, stay low and out of sight. All very good suggestions in your opinion.

You kept your gaze intently to the direction of the voices, just waiting for them to pop out so you could get a good look at them and hopefully get some answers to your burning questions.

For better or for worse your questions were answered sooner than you thought.

Aside from the speaking english, the only thing that gave them away for being avatar and not Na’vi was the tactical gear. They were fully decked out. A few of them had arms decorated with tattoos and…sunglasses, Jake had called them.

They slowly approached the abandoned lab with guns raised and eyes everywhere. You all ducked down further once you realised you were way out of your league. Unarmed humans you might be able to handle. Armed humans, definitely more difficult but you had done it before, but avatar who were armed to the teeth along with the strength and speed of the na’vi made for a dangerous mix. You all watched as they searched through the building, overturning the insides of it.

“Come on, dad is on his way, he told us to fall back.” Neteyam’s urged all of you, gesturing into the forest behind him.

“What? No! This is our- my chance to prove to dad that I can help! I can be an asset to the people!”

Neteyam and Lo’ak continued to bicker when you noticed Kiri looking around, looking around desperately.

“Kiri?” you asked, “what’s wrong?”

The girl looked almost brought to tears when she looked up to you.

Her voice trembled, “Where is Tuk?”

Oh god.

She had disappeared before Lo’ak had picked up on the lab.

No one had seen her since.

Kiri clasped her hands around her mouth, she looked about as scared as you felt. God, little Tuktirey.

Abruptly, the group of avatars in front of you trained their guns on clump of trees of to your right. You had heard the sound too, a snap of a small branch or twig. Whatever had stepped on it was light.

Light enough to be Tuk.

The hostiles started to walk toward the noise. It’s like you were watching them in slow motion. Off to the side you could see Kiri’s eyes widen, horror flashed across her face. Spider had a similar expression, his eyebrows upturned in the centre. Lo’ak and Neteyam had stopped their fighting and just looked scared out of their own minds. Neteyam for once didn’t have a solution for everything.

So you did the only thing you could think of. A stupid, stupid thing looking back on it, a stupid thing parading itself as bravery. You scrunched your face, said a silent prayer to Eywa to deliver Tuk to safety and to give you strength for whatever was to happen.

You lept out from behind the log and dashed out of cover.

The avatars snapped their attention to you and raised their guns, but you kept charging towards them. Unsheathing the small knife you kept on you at all times, you cried out.

An avatar with short cropped hair on the top of his hair held out his hand and caught you around the neck. He didn’t hold you tight enough to strangle you, but tight enough that you couldn’t escape. He lifted you up into the air like you were fresh prey.

You struggled and snarled, trying to get your knife in any part of him that you could reach.

“Well, well, well, lookie here…” Quaritch chuckled darkly. He motioned for his squad to lowers their guns and the obeyed, observing their colonel with obvious amusement. It made you sick, you probably outwardly grimaced.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He muttered. Quaritch made a show of ‘hmmm’ing and scratching his chin in fake thought. “Ah yes, i’ve seen your runnin’ around with the Sully spawn. You’ve been causin’ a lot of trouble, you and those other brats.”

You pretended not to understand him, opting to keep snapping and thrashing at him. It was not a complete lie; while Jake had taught you some basic english, you could probably only form the sentences of a small human child.

“The thing looks feral…” A teammate muttered from behind the colonel and the squad laughed.

“Don’t be fooled, soldier. These Na’vi can be quite clever when they put their heads together.” The colonel responded.

Thinking of your family behind you, you hoped and prayed that they had retreated back with Tuktirey.

Quaritch lowered you to the ground but before you tried to make a break for it, he wove his fingers through your hair and pulled hard.

You bit your teeth to stifle a scream and reached up to attempt to pry his hand off of your head.

“I know that there’s more of you back there, in the tree line, so you behave and my team will leave them be.” Fear flooded you at that, hearing that this man knew you weren’t alone. With a snap of his fingers he could have you all held hostages. So you stilled. You rested your hands back at your sides and begrudgingly set your gaze on him.

The avatar holding you smiled.

“Children o’ Sully! You listen here,” he spoke in english before switching into what seemed to be pretty broken na’vi, “you tell your father to come here, and this girl will be returned unharmed in exchange for his compliance.”

At least he didn’t know Neteyam had already been in contact with both Jake and Neytiri. If they just pretended to leave, Jake and Neytiri would think of a plan. Like they always do.

The bushes where everyone was hiding rustled. Quaritch tensed and the avatars behind you raised their guns once more, but the bushes stilled, no other came from it.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You hoped that they had gone back home or at least taken Tuk back.

“Alright everyone, I’m guessing we can expect Jake Sully and his mate getting here pretty soon.” He drawled, turning to face his team. “Get ready for an attack. Be on your guard and keep your new eyes and ears sharp.”

Jake and Neytiri quietly dismounted their Ikran and armed themselves. Neytiri looked as if she was shaking with rage, her mouth downturned and her eyes looking for a threat.

“Hey, I’m sure they’re all fine. They’re tough kids, they’re our kids which make them tougher.” Jake attempted a joke but it died out in the silence when Neytiri did not respond.

They hadn’t landed far from where Neteyam told them they were and they were almost silent as they crept forward into the thicket.

A flutter of motion from they’re left has Neytiri’s bow drawn and aimed at the spot.

“Mom! It’s just us! It’s me, Lo’ak!” Lo’ak revealed himself from his hiding spot, arms raised and Neytiri breathed a watery sigh.

She rushed forward, took her baby in her arms, and held him tightly. Lo’ak wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. From behind him, Neteyam and spider emerged too, looking a little more embarrassed. Jake looked at his eldest and frowned.

“Where are your sisters?” He asked. Neytiri finally set Lo’ak down and gasped a little, noticing the absence of three of the Sully children.

“Kiri took Tuktirey back home and..” Neteyam looked ashamed, “yn was taken.”

His mother squeezed her eyes closed. Even if you weren’t born of her, you were her daughter. The idea of you being taken, as bait no less, had her heart in her stomach and her chest alight with anger.

Jake sighed and his face turned stony. “You all stay here, stay hidden, while we clean up your mess.” He whispered. The boys wilted and sunk back.

Your legs were starting to ache with how long you had been standing and your scalp with how hard the grip he had on your hair.

The man who had been holding you earlier passed you off to another one of his teammates, who seemed to take liberties in yanking your hair every once and a while.

The once clear sky had filled with clouds and rain trickled down through the canopy above you. No one had spoken in a long time, like everyone was holding their breath.

Suddenly, your ear twitched and you flicked your eyes to where you had heard…something. It could just be the sounds of the forest, an animal eating a plant or a ripe piece of fruit hitting the earth, but this sound sounded out of place, made my something not of the forest.

You caught a glimpse of something blue ducking behind the trunk of a wide tree. They had been holding what looked like a bow. Neytiri!

You shut your eyes and thanked Eywa for delivering you a mother as magnificent and brave as her.

Everything was still for a while and you wondered why Neytiri hadn’t taken a shot. Had she left? In an attempt to look like you were getting drowsy, you slumped a back into the avatar holding you. Your head hit his chin as you did so. He shoved you forward again, tugging your hair as he did so.

That’s why she hadn’t taken a shot, there was too much of a risk of hitting you. You looked up to where you had seen her before and caught her eyes. She had been staring at you intently the whole time, waiting for an opening.

So you gave her one.

You hoped she understood what you tried to say in a single look.

Saying another silent prayer to Eywa, you grabbed the arm that wasn’t gripping your hair, brought it up to your mouth, and bit down as hard as you could.

The man screamed, “You little bitch!”

Thankfully, on instinct he let go of your head and you had just enough time to duck out of the way before an arrow hit him straight between the eyes.

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet and you made a break into the forest. You didn’t dare look back behind you. Gunshots rang through the air, some even whizzed past you.

Just as you jumped over the fallen trunk of a tree, an arm caught you from the side. You fought against it, landing a blow against whoever’s face had snatched you.

They groaned and let you go.

“Be calm! It’s just me!” Spider said as he held his now bloody nose.

You gasped and reached out to touch his face. “Oh Spider, I’m so sorry. You scared me!”

He shook his head a little before standing up, offering you a hand. “It’s fine, let’s go. Lo’ak and Neteyam already left.”

You took his hand and the two of you ran through the forest together. Never daring to look back.

When Jake and Neytiri returned, you knew you were all in for it.

You and your siblings listened outside of their tent, listening to them argue. You held Tuk to you, you didn’t want her to hear what they were saying but she insisted, so all you could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.

Jake stormed out of the tent and you all pretended to be looking at anything else. Smooth.

“yn, get over here.” He ordered. Lo’ak patted you on the back and walked away with the others.

“That stunt you pulled!? That’s not on, okay? It was stupi-!”

You interrupted him, “What I did was stupid, but I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t, Tuk would have been in my position and I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen, sir.” Jake was silent at that. The same stern look painted across his face and his eye twitched.

You stood your ground.

He stood his. For a while.

Until he broke.

The hard look he had softened and he just looked like a tired dad. You realised how stressed he must be, knowing that an old enemy was back and would go through his family to get him. He though he had lost Neteyam earlier this week, and now his daughter? You could have sympathy for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his broad chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

It felt as if his chest buckled at that and he returned your hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. Alright, soldier?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a. mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

#i can’t tell if i over wrote #sully family #avatar x reader #sullys x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #kiri x reader #spider x reader #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #sully family imagine

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish would cross every line and break every rule of a lap dance.

He'd see you from across the club and is already plotting ways to get you alone in one of the private rooms so he can have his hands all over you and help you “relax” 🥴

he's a lil’ creep :)

(18+ MDNI, dub-con/non-con themes)

You can’t even remember why you’re here.

It’s loud, bass thumping in the hollow of your chest, the warmth of writhing bodies weighs heavy in the air, and flashing lights seem to follow your eyes everywhere you look without reprieve. That’s why you don’t see him, don’t notice him staring at you from across the club, and now your friends are whistling and whooping at the dark stranger climbing the steps into your alcove.

“This is the guy I told you about,” Kari leans over to whisper-shout, cupping a hand in a feeble attempt to speak over the music pouring out of the speakers overhead.

Ah, that’s right. Kari wanted to see if the dancer from the near constant stream of videos she inundates the group chat with is here tonight. Seems tonight is her lucky night, because when he steps into your circle he pivots towards the two of you, long legs rippling the slash of cut muscle and tanned skin on display beneath ripped jeans slung low on his hips, obliques bunching and flexing with the subtle tilt of his hips with each measured step. Swaggering.

And he comes to a halt—right in front of you. It’s a long way up, craning your neck at an awkward angle to look up at the silhouette of him against strobe and colorful spotlights. You don’t know what you were expecting. The black leather harness straining over his chest and distressed jeans feel fairly standard, as does his physique and rugged handsomeness, but the warmth that ripples off his body feels like a riptide instead of the languid roll of lapping waves, dragging you under and filling your lungs with the scent of sea spray and brine, the musk of his sweat mixed with whatever he’s oiled his skin with.

“Ooooo girl!” Kari grips your arm, acrylic nails scratching over your skin, and it pulls you out of your dumbfounded stupor enough for you to register the hand he’s holding out to you. “If you don’t go, I will!”

Go? With him? Where would we-

“Ye look a bit overwhelmed, lass. Think somethin’ more… private, might be your style.”

Oh…

Kari snakes her arm between your back and the tufted faux leather of the bench and bodily pushes you forward to the edge of your seat, towards his outstretched hand, and you’re caught wholly off guard when gentle fingers hook under your chin, tipping your head back at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze.

The brightest blue of a searing flame feels gelid in comparison to the heat that dances and flickers in his eyes, and they feel sharp as knives against your skin, boring into you, slicing through layers of trepidation and apprehension to get to the core of you.

“Promise ye wilnae regret it.” The pad of his thumb brushes across your lower lip, a slow, exploratory movement that sends a shudder trickling down your spine.

Goading shouts of ‘Go!’ and ‘Get some, girl!’ permeate the hazy bubble you’re floating in with him, echoing and bouncing off of flimsy boundaries.

“I- I don’t know… You should take Kari, she-” You’re silenced by the press of his thumb to your lips again, mouth still parted on half-spoken words, and you can feel the swipe of his flesh across the front of your teeth.

“-She’s not the one who needs help relaxin’. You are,” he finishes for you, and it sounds more like a command than an observation. The fingers under your chin tug upwards, straining the muscles of your neck, and you lift subconsciously from your seat to ease the tension. He takes advantage of this and slots a hand under your arm, pulls you up and firmly against him, and turns your head to the side to whisper low in your ear, “I’ll take good care of ye, lass. Dinnae need to worry.”

There’s a collective gasp from the group around you, excited squeals and peals of laughter that ring out over the music. ‘Go!’ they all chant in a cult-like mantra. Go to the private room with the handsome stranger.

Go to the private room where the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the music isn’t so loud.

His hand still holds your face, cups your jaw to draw your attention back to him, and the hand on your ribs has drifted down to your waist, thumb rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress.

“Ok…” you cede, voice a meek whisper and eyes darting away from his to settle on his lips, feeling too scrutinized, laid bare, under their watchfulness.

It shouldn’t be possible but his smile is somehow brighter than the flashing lights, disorienting enough that you blink a few times until the spots across your vision fade. The hand at your waist slides easily around you, tucking you into his side as he leads you away from the alcove, through throngs of patrons and dancers towards the roped off rooms at the back of the club with velvet lined walls and thick curtains across each doorway.

He guides you down onto the sofa that wraps around the entirety of the room, downy upholstery tickling the back of your legs as he draws the curtain closed, and your eyes mimic the motion with a gentle sigh as you sink into the softness that dampens the sound beyond the room, filters out the harsh light in favor dim ambiance.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you just need to sit here for a moment away from…. Well, away from all of it. Take a moment, and just-

“Och, look at ye… just need a bit of quiet, hm?” The low purr of his voice right in front of you causes you to jolt, eyes snapping open to find him knelt down at eye level with you, arms braced against the sofa on either side of your knees.

You start to apologize but he shakes his head, one big hand sliding over your knee in a soothing gesture.

“None of that. Here to help ye relax, bonnie.” His hand drifts higher up your leg, strong fingers kneading at the supple flesh hidden beneath ruched fabric, and you think distantly that this feels more intimate than a private dance should. “Close those pretty eyes and just focus on the way it feels. Can ye do that for me?”

In the dim lighting the warmth in his eyes blazes bright and fervent with an eager insistence, an illuminating display of hunger and want that burns through your nerves like wildfire.

You take a deep, steadying breath and let your eyes fall closed once more, and the answering growl that rumbles in his chest in response to your submission pools unbidden warmth between your legs.

“Good girl, so good for me. Gonnae take such good care of ye.” Something warm and hard presses against your legs, and before you have time to think about how good that feels, both of his hands find the back of your knees and pull. They force your knees apart, yank you forward to the edge of your seat so that he’s knelt between your legs.

He clicks his tongue at the flutter of your lashes, eyes trying to open and make sense of the jarring repositioning of your lower extremities, and says, “‘S okay, keep ‘em closed. Just need t’ get a bit closer.” It is a dance afterall. But still, the notion that something about it isn’t quite what it should be festers at the far reaches of your mind.

“Give me yer hands.” It’s softer this time, his voice when he makes the request, but the demand and expectation there is clear–he’s leading, and you’re following. With tentative movements you reach out blindly in front of you until you feel the warmth of his hands enveloping and guiding yours, placing them against something rough that scratches between your palms.

His face, you realize, as your thumb brushes over the stubble on his jaw, tracing the strong line of it from his chin up to his ear. The hair is short there too, shorn close to his scalp, but it feels softer, pleasant against your fingertips. He hums, whether in approval or simply in reaction to your clumsy exploration you can’t decipher, and you can feel the way it vibrates in his throat against your hand lingering on his jaw.

Lost in the new sensation of him you don’t immediately realize where his hands have settled on you, palms rough with callouses gliding over exposed skin and up the expanse of your thighs to capture your hips, long fingers only just grazing your rear. He pulls you closer, closer to the edge, and your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, seeking balance and support from the broad expanse of them.

With his hands splayed across your ribs on either side he presses his face into your neck, dragging his nose up towards your jaw and breathing in long and deep, the shuddering exhale of his breath zapping against your sensitive skin in tantalizing currents.

“Had my eyes on ye all night,” he murmurs, and you can feel the brush of his lips against skin that's begun to warm beneath his touch.

Odd, you think, for a patron to catch the eye of a dancer. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? A lot of this should be happening inversely, or perhaps not at all. It feels like a violation of the rules, a breach in etiquette, to have so much contact with him–to be touching him.

“Need to know, pretty thing. Need to know… what ye taste like.” He’s panting when he voices that particular desire, voice rough and breathless, and it feels funny that he should be the one short of breath when you haven’t taken one since he put his hands on you, still holding onto the dwindling supply of air and withering sense of propriety.

This… this should not be happening, you think as he tips you back, big hands pushing you down onto the couch again and this time your eyes do more than flutter, opening wide as your back meets the cushion beneath you.

“Sir, I- this isn’t what-”

“I ken it’s not what ye thought it would be, bonnie. Doesnae change the fact that it’s what ye need,” he cuts you off, gruff and adamant in his assessment of you.

What you need? You don’t need this. The privacy is nice, yes, and he’s certainly a welcome sight, but this isn’t a dance. This isn’t what you agreed to.

He must be able to see your confusion, the warring thoughts in your mind written on your face as plainly as a line drawn on a battlefield. How your mind struggles to reconcile the sudden shift. How that line in sand has been trampled beyond recognition and you don't know which side of it you're standing on anymore. He has to know because he laughs, a warm flutter of breath ticking across your inner thighs.

The gasp that tears from your lungs when his teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, fanning dormant embers of desire you're only now becoming aware of, only seems to amuse him further. Makes his lips, pulled apart in a grin, vibrate against your skin before biting you again. You try to pull away from him but he curls a massive arm around your leg, holding you firmly in place for his tongue to lave over the imprint of his teeth on your skin.

“Just as sweet as she looks,” he remarks, more to himself than you, and his hands push the fabric of your dress up past your hips. You squirm in his grasp but he just wraps the other arm around you and coos sweet sounds between your legs, hooks them over his shoulders and clamps his hands around your hips once more. “Jus’ need some attention, hm? Poor girl, cannae breathe with these, can ye?”

Is he… talking to your pussy?

You get your answer when you feel the hot press of his mouth over the thin scrap of lace.

What the fuck is happening?

Not normal. This is not normal. This should not be happening.

It makes your head spin, the steady stream of realization that trickles in through the haze of… You don’t want to admit what you’re feeling. Don’t want to admit that amidst your panic and confusion, how suddenly the situation escalated, you never said no.

You aren’t saying no. You should be saying no.

“Such a pretty wee cunt,” he lilts as a hand trails down and pulls your panties to the side, revealing the most intimate part of you to him.

You can feel your body's betrayal of your emotions, the cooling sensation of his breath against the slick gathering between your thighs. It sends tumultuous sparks of pleasure up your spine and makes your fingers flex against the couch beneath you, seeking purchase and finding none. He coos at this, digs his fingers into your hips and presses his lips to your folds like he’s kissing your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste your slick and teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

It’s maddening how good it feels, how tormented you are about even remotely liking it. He’s taken you here under false pretense and forced himself upon you. You should be angry with him. But it's hard to separate the confusion from the adrenaline, the fear from the lust that addles your senses.

“Ye’re thinkin’ too much. Relax.” His voice is rough, pitched low and graveled by his own desire, and he digs his thumbs into your hip flexors, smoothing out the muscles wrought with tension. “‘S’posed to feel good, bonnie. Let me take care of ye, work ye over how ye need.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say someone might hear, might walk in and see you, separated by only a curtain from the rest of the club. The words die on your tongue when he cards his through your silken folds in one broad stroke, warm and wet and so fucking good, illiciting a string of breathy moans in place of your objections. A growl of assent rumbles in his chest again, rocking through you in wicked bolts, nerves firing in tandem with the movements of his tongue lapping at your entrance like a man starved.

Despite how your mind still kicks and thrashes, desperate to pull your head above water and think clearly, your body can't help its response to him, surrendering to the undertow that pulls you further into the hazy depths of pleasure with each fervent swipe of his tongue.

“Tha’s it sweet girl, doin so good.” He has no right, none at all, to make you feel this way. Warm and wanting, squirming closer, trying to find more friction. He doesn’t deserve the sniveling whimpers that crawl up your throat, the hands that blindly seek the shock of messy hair to pull him closer and beg for more.

And he gives it to you, focuses his attention on your aching bundle of nerves in tight, precise circles, coaxing you closer to the swell that’s building at the base of your spine.

“Gonnae come for me?” His teeth wrap around your clit and you keen, cry out wantonly at the sudden sharpness of the sensation, the additional pressure, and a litany of yes’s flows forth from lips parted on a moan.

He’s relentless in his pursuit of your climax. Desperate, even, to feel your body go taut with pleasure, pressing his face so far between your legs you wonder if he can even breathe. Each flick of his tongue, scrape of his teeth, pushing you closer and closer until the tension breaks, a cresting wave of pleasure crashing over you and drowning your senses in liquid fire.

He works you to the point of overstimulation, until the drag of his tongue feels like a blade against your skin and your thighs burn from the scrape of his stubble. Only then, does he give you a reprieve, panting when he pulls back and peppers kisses over the raw skin.

“Such a good girl, did so well for me. Knew ye’d be good for me, bonnie.” He gathers you up, rights your undergarments and pulls your skirt back down your thighs before he helps you sit up, and his hand feels warm against your cheek, thumb swiping away the mascara running in inky trails down your face. “Gonna get ye some water, dinnae move,” he murmurs against your temple, lips pressed against your skin in a comparatively chaste kiss before all that warmth pulls away and you're left on your own.

You couldn’t go anywhere if you wanted to, knees too weak to even think about moving off the couch, lest you look like a wobbling faun stumbling back to your friends. But when the curtain opens, bright light from a flashlight shining into your eyes, you panic, eyes closing against the offending light and you push up onto your feet. You don’t stay up very long, however, as a wave of dizziness crashes into you full-force, sending you back down onto the couch in a clumsy heap.

“Oh, shit- are you alright? Hey,” The man in front of you crouches down, hands on your shoulders to hold you upright. He has a badge on his shirt. Security. “Do you know where you are?”

You rattle off the name of the club and some of the worry bunching his brows lessens.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“He’s getting me water.”

“He? Your boyfriend?

“The dancer, his name-” You never did get his name, from him or Kari. “-he has a… a harness? And jeans. I think he has a mohawk too.” There's a funny look on his face now, like he doesn’t really believe you.

“Honey, we don’t have any dancers here tonight that look like that.”

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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mrs-kmikaelson · 8 months

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Our Song and Dance²

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: not as long as before but still long, murder, violence, death, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, psychological "games," unrequited love, complicated relationships, suicidal tendencies (technically), complex mental health issues, and i make up small details ab smaller characters and some names (pls lmk if i missed anything) Words: 9.2K

Masterlist | Part 3

a/n: i just want to thank you all so much for the support! i was definitely insecure about this, but seeing all the love rlly makes it so worth it! this one is completely catching fire, then the next one is all mockingjay. hope u enjoy! also finnick and y/n's song is def american pie.

“Let The 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour.”

Ten seconds later, a cannon fired and you were immediately jumping off the pedestal into the water. Once upon a time, you were a swimmer. This was your edge. You were good in water, as was Finnick, so your worry for him eased.

You swam until you reached rock, climbing on to it and running along the path like your life depended on it because it did. Once you were at the Cornucopia, you ran for your sword, grabbing it and then swiftly pivoting to stab the person coming up from behind you like it was instinct—and it was.

Your mind didn’t have to fully be there; your body knew what it was doing. You’ve danced this dance already, and you’ve perfected it. You stabbed another man from behind, letting him fall to the ground when you pulled your sword away. You grabbed throwing knives, running to find Finnick, and you caught him at just the right moment.

Katniss had just drawn her arrow when you came up from behind her, bringing your sword up against her neck. Alliance or not, you’d slit her throat if she posed a threat.

“Careful, Everdeen,” you warned, making her tense.

At that moment, Finnick held up his forearm, flashing his bracelet. He smirked, completely unbothered, and taunted, “Good thing we’re allies, right?”

Her breath was shaky but her voice was still menacing. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” You retorted, still holding the blade close to her skin.

You watched as the amusement on Finnick’s face disappeared, his gaze being directed away from you. “Behind you.”

You quickly moved your sword away from her neck without cutting her, spinning and bringing it down on another guy’s neck instead. You turned back to a gasping Katniss, ignoring her state that was much like the one you were just in. “Don’t trust 1 and 2.”

Cannons fired as Finnick walked around you. “I’ll take this side. You go hold them off,” he told her.

You nodded. “I’ll find Peeta.” You didn’t walk far before you spotted him, shouting, “He’s over here!” All three of you ran over, finding him in the water against a pedestal, fighting off a tribute.

Finnick jumped into the water, swimming over while Katniss drew her arrow, seemingly waiting to get a good shot, but then both boys were submerged underwater. She brought her arrow down, breathing heavily as a cannon fired.

You waited in anticipation, a body floating up to the surface. For a second, you thought the kid died, but then he emerged out of the water, panting, and you both let out a breath.

The look on her face as she thought Peeta died was more convincing than any other performance you watched them put on, more convincing than the kisses, and the engagement, and the sweet interviews. Whatever was going on between them, you knew now that it wasn’t all fake.

Seems that you had more in common with the Girl on Fire than you thought.

You glanced over at the island, seeing the sets of Careers standing together, forming an alliance as they usually did. Katniss noticed this, too, so as soon Peeta and Finnick were out of the water, you all went running in to the jungle.

This was a Quarter Quell. There was more to it than just changing up the reaping; the entire arena was special. The Gamemakers were sick. You knew that you were in for a hell of a ride.

Right now, you just had to keep running. You could worry about food and water when the time came, and you’d find Johanna eventually. She was smart; you knew she wouldn’t be one of the first to die.

You ran and ran until Finnick called for you all to stop, crouching down to make a game plan. It turned out that you were gonna need water a lot sooner than you thought with how hot it was. At least freezing to death wasn’t something you had to worry about.

Katniss stared at you and Finnick quite obviously. You weren’t sure if she was trying to be discreet or not; you weren’t sure if she knew how to be discreet at all. The firing of the cannon made her finally look away.

Even though you were just running for your lives, a smirk still made its way onto Finnick’s face. “Well, I guess we’re not holding hands anymore,” he chuckled. You snorted, but Katniss wasn’t as amused.

“You think that’s funny?”

You narrowed your eyes, answering before Finnick could. “I don’t know what you think this is, Everdeen, but in case you failed to notice, it’s kill or be killed out here.” You pointed to your ear. “Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. We don’t care about any of them.”

Her jaw clenched. “Good to hear,” she quipped, pulling a machete out of its sheath on her back. You scoffed at her pathetic attempt to threaten you.

“Look, you wanna face the Career Pack alone? Be my guest. It’s your funeral,” you shot. “Besides, what would Haymitch say?”

“Haymitch isn’t here.” She stared straight into your eyes and you stared right back at her, unblinking. In your peripheral, you saw Peeta glancing between you.

“Let’s keep moving,” he interrupted, standing up, but you didn’t look away from Katniss until she stood up first.

Once you were up and walking, Finnick put his hand on the small of your back, probably to calm you down. For some reason, he insisted on working with them, so you’d just have to stifle your urge to argue with her.

Eventually, though, you knew you would be doing a lot more than arguing. If Katniss and you were as alike as you thought, then you knew that she’d stab you in the back for Peeta, the same way you would for Finnick.

The actual tributes in the arena weren’t always what you had to worry about. You were reminded of this when Peeta hit the wrong branches and went flying backward, sending you all with him.

A wall where he hit was revealed, like a glitch, before it was replaced again with the glamour of the jungle. A force field, you realized. Then your attention was drawn back to Peeta by Katniss’ cry of his name.

You shuffled over to them as Katniss panicked. “He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing.” Finnick rushed over, pushing her out of the way.

She instantly reached for her bow, going to grab an arrow, but you shoved her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s saving his life,” you snapped. Her hand fell, realizing you were right as she watched Finnick give him CPR.

She looked like she took a moment to collect herself and then she crawled over. “Peeta? Peeta?” She cried. Finnick grunted, switching between compressions and mouth-to-mouth, continuously checking for a heartbeat that wasn’t there. “Please wake up. No,” she sobbed, “please wake up.”

For the first time since The Games began, you really did feel bad for her. If you were in her place, you didn’t know what you would do.

Just as you thought Peeta was dead, he gasped back to life. Finnick moved back, letting them have their moment.

“Be careful, there’s a force field up there,” he breathed.

She tearily chuckled, leaning in to kiss him. You and Finnick shared a look. Katniss was kidding herself if she didn’t think she loved him. You tuned the rest of their conversation out. Peeta could’ve died, just like that, and Katniss would’ve probably fallen apart.

You knew that if Finnick died, you died, too. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to protect him.

Little did you know, he was thinking the exact same thoughts about you.

Once Peeta could stand, you were all back on your feet, looking for freshwater while simultaneously trying to spot where the force field started and ended. After Katniss did a little experiment with an arrow, you figured out that the arena was a dome. You just so happened to be at the edge.

Didn’t matter, though, because there wasn’t a sign of freshwater anywhere. Since you couldn’t satisfy your need for water, you’d just have to compensate with your need for sleep.

“It’s getting dark soon. We’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp,” Finnick suggested. “Take turns sleeping. I can take first watch.”

Katniss gave a little scoff like he was saying was absurd. “Not a chance.”

You stepped forward, so fed up and desperately wanting to give her a reality check, but Finnick held a hand up, signalling for you to stop. The only reason you did was because you saw the look on his face. As much as you wanted to tear Katniss a new one, you’d much rather watch him do it.

He stood up, sticking the end of his trident into the ground. He was calm, but annoyance laced his voice. “Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.” He picked up his trident. “Same goes for Y/N.”

Then he walked off, and you followed soon after hearing Katniss say something to Peeta about taking the first watch. If you were just watching The Games, then maybe you’d feel a little more compassionate towards her, but you weren’t watching. You were in them with her.

Your compassion sort of needed to disappear to ensure your survival, so all you were was annoyed. But she was a pretty good archer, so having her on your team didn’t hurt, unless you were counting how she was a pain in your ass.

However, your annoyance was quick to fade as you fell asleep, tired, hungry, and dehydrated.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of Panem’s anthem, pictures in the sky of the tributes that had died. Most of them were people you previously had conversations with in the Capitol, yet some of them were still people that you killed.

You couldn’t be friends with everyone in an arena.

You counted eight pictures in the sky. So there were sixteen left, including you four. If you were still mentoring, you would’ve probably been reflecting over how quickly those lives could just come to an end, but you didn’t have time to stop and think about the cruelty of life.

Your thoughts were directed away from the dead by a chime. You looked up to see a silver parachute, slowly falling to the ground. Katniss opened the silver casing, revealing some sort of metal tool and a note from Haymitch. You quickly identified the tool as a spile.

The three of you brought it to a tree, waiting to see if it’d work. Peeta came and found you not long after. You were just staring at it, praying for water. If there was a God, they answered, because water came pouring out of the spile like it was a fountain.

You were so relieved that you laughed, drinking and splashing some on your face.

After that, you were the one taking watch as everyone slept. Every year when The Games came, you had trouble sleeping more than a few hours each night. Now that you were back in the arena, you really couldn’t sleep at all. You’d make sure you got an hour every day, just to keep yourself sharp, but otherwise you’d prefer to let Finnick sleep and watch over him, anyway.

You were all startled by a loud banging, almost like an alarm. The only reason you could think of for its presence was to signal that it was midnight, but you were still confused. There were never alarms in any of the other Games. But, like you’d already figured out, this year was different.

Right after the alarm, you watched as lightning repeatedly struck the same tree in the distance. Nature didn’t work that way, and there was nothing natural about The Games, anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence, but you just couldn’t figure out what its purpose could be.

You spent the rest of your watch trying to put the puzzle pieces together, trying to figure out what the catch was with this arena, but you couldn’t make any of the pieces fit. You didn’t have enough. Katniss tried to stay awake, still distrusting of you, but she eventually succumbed to slumber, leaving you to yourself.

She hadn’t been sleeping long when you heard a different sound. You turned your head, seeing grey mist slowly crawl its way over to you. Your brows furrowed.

There were no natural occurrences in an arena.

You reached your hand out, like you were testing the waters, but you should’ve known better. As soon as the fog made contact with your skin, you fell backward, a scream leaving your lips. Your cry woke everyone else up.

Finnick immediately ran to you, but you shouted, “No, run! It’s poison- the fog is poison!” Either he was stupid or brave, because he ignored your warning and ran to you anyway, helping you up as quickly as possible before you followed Katniss and Peeta, doing your best to run, but the fog was following you, too.

It was harder to run fast in this part of the jungle. All of the branches and plants kept getting in your way, but you weren’t stopping, helping Peeta cut whatever was in your way.

You could’ve been running as fast as humanly possible, but the fog still would’ve caught up to you. It wasn’t nature at all. It was intended to kill.

You had to change directions as it suddenly appeared in front of you, too. It was like it was encasing you. Somewhere along the way, Katniss and Peeta ended up running on the path parallel to you. You skidded to a stop as you heard Finnick scream. Your eyes widened. “Finnick, come on. We’ve gotta go!” You ushered him forward, and then he went running to Katniss and Peeta who came to a stop, as well.

When you got there, Peeta was groaning on the ground, blisters all over the side of his face. “I can’t carry him,” Katniss panted. “Peeta, please, stand up. We have to go.”

If you could carry him, you would, but he’d crush you if you tried. Finnick was in no condition to carry Peeta alone, so you slung one of his arms around your neck, telling Katniss to get the other. “Finnick, go. Get ahead of us.” You motioned for him to go forward.

He looked hesitant, and in any other situation, he wouldn’t, but none of you had the time to argue, so he listened and ran forward, taking Peeta’s blade and cutting the branches in your path.

The three of you cried out as the fog hit the backs of your necks, but then you were all rolling down a hill that you couldn’t have noticed in the state you were in.

You were whimpering on the ground, so consumed by the pain that you almost forgot that you were supposed to be running. You turned over and, to your surprise, the fog didn’t come any closer, travelling upward instead of forward, like it hit a wall. And then it just disappeared altogether.

You let out a shaky breath, resting your head on the ground before you were reminded of where you were. Resting wasn’t an option. You’d rest when you were dead, and you weren’t gonna speed up that process.

So you crawled over to the lake a few feet away from you. This was a gamble, but you had to take some risks if you wanted to survive. Cautiously, you stuck your hand in the water. This elicited another scream from you, but the pain in your hand slowly faded as the blisters were practically washed away.

“The- the water,” you stuttered, “the water helps.”

As Katniss and Peeta made their way over, you pushed yourself into the water, moaning at the pain. Tears leaked out of your eyes, but after a minute or so, the excruciating pain subsided to just a sting.

When you were both okay, Katniss and you got out of the water, dragging Finnick over. As soon as the water touched his skin, he was screaming, trying to fight against it. “Shh, shh,” you hushed, holding him down. “It’s gonna help.” You ran your fingers through his hair, and a few more tears fell down your face, even though you weren’t in pain anymore.

Not physical pain.

But watching him struggle like this was a pain you couldn’t help.

You and Katniss helped him as he shivered while Peeta went and got your weapons. You stayed in the lake even after all your blisters were gone, just cooling off and getting yourselves together.

In The Games, your physical came first, but you wanted to keep an eye on mental health or at least not let it get to a point where it’d affect your body. Though, you supposed there was no healthy mind in The Games, and there certainly wasn’t after a victor left them.

Annie was an example of a worst case scenario, but you knew this because you lived it, too.

Finnick’s hand found yours as you sat together, holding it tightly. This was his way of making sure you were still there. Your way was putting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

After a while, though, that steady rhythm was interrupted and his heart started beating faster. This caused you to look up, and when you did, you were met with the sight of apes coming toward you.

Katniss grabbed an arrow while you and Finnick slowly stood up, bracing yourself by readying your weapons. You glanced around, seeing that they were coming in from all directions. Fucking Gamemakers, you thought.

You realized you could see the Cornucopia from where you stood, so all you had to was fend them off and make it there.

Suddenly, one jumped at Peeta, then the rest of them got up from their perched positions. Katniss was firing arrows left and right while you and the boys slashed away. If one got too close, you stabbed it.

Katniss was pulled underwater by one, but you killed it before she ran out of air. There were too many to just kill all of them, meaning you had to start running for the beach.

Peeta and Katniss both fell, so you ran to help her while Finnick went for Peeta. You stabbed the ape in front of her, grabbing her hand and taking her running with you. When you reached them, there was someone lying on the ground that hadn’t been with you before.

“Who is that?” Katniss questioned, but you recognized her by the face paint.

“A morphling,” Peeta responded, pulling her up. “Help me get her!”

You let Katniss help him while you helped Finnick get the apes closest to you, taking off as soon as you could. You both stumbled, rolling onto the beach, but the apes didn’t go farther than the edge of the sand. You held your blades out at them, but it was like you really didn’t need to.

You were reminded of the fog and it how was stopped by an invisible wall, the same way these monkeys looked to be stopped by something.

A cannon fired, and they retreated into the jungle. You swallowed, turning to see Katniss and Peeta leaving the water, the Morphling left floating dead. Like clockwork, a hovercraft came in, picking her up like she was an object.

You scoffed. Just when you thought you couldn’t think any lesser of the Capitol, you were proven wrong.

When Peeta spoke up, his voice was both defeated and confused. “She sacrificed herself for me and I didn’t even know her name.”

“Her name was Trayne,” you cut in, making them both look at you, but your eyes were focused on the hovercraft taking her out of the water. “Trayne Carter.”

They both paused, absorbing that. It was like, for the first time since you entered the arena, you were reminded that these people weren’t just your opponents. They were people that had lives.

Just like you.

A look then passed over Katniss’ face as she turned to Peeta. “You think she sacrificed herself?”

“Looked like it.”

Your brows knit together while she voiced your thoughts. “That doesn’t make any sense.” It didn’t, but you had a long list of things you had to make sense of and more pressing matters at hand, so you couldn’t busy yourself by thinking about it.

Finnick found fish that was edible, so you all sat in the shade and ate for the first time since before The Games started. This time, you were the one to reach out for his hand, holding on to it like you’d die if you let go.

You were pretty much in silence until a scream sounded from far away but close enough that you could hear it. You let go of Finnick’s hand as Peeta remarked, “That’s new.”

You all stood up, grabbing your weapons. In the distance, there was a rumble. Something was rustling the trees ahead of you. When it got closer, you realized that something was water. The wave came crashing past the trees and into the water, stopping once it hit the Cornucopia.

Like it couldn’t go past it.

Cannons fired, and the hovercraft returned, picking up bodies from the jungle while you all watched, captured by the sight. You were broken out of your trance by Katniss drawing an arrow. “Someone’s here.”

Her and Peeta ducked while you and Finnick waited to see who it was. It took you a moment since they were covered in blood, but you soon realized who it was. You let out a sigh of relief. “Johanna.” You jogged over to them. “Johanna!”

“Y/N?” She laughed as she saw you and Finn. Her tough exterior came down as she went to hug you, like she was just as relieved to see you. Once she let go of you, she even hugged Finnick.

You glanced, identifying that the people she was with were Beetee and Wiress, then looked back at her. “What the hell happened?”

Katniss and Peeta came over just as she started explaining. “Well, I got ‘em out.” She gestured to them. “We were all the way deep into the jungle where I thought it was gonna be safe.” A humourless smile arose on her face. “That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. It turned out to be blood. Hot, thick blood.”

You narrowed her eyes at her explanation. Fog, apes, waves, blood rain. There was some sort of connection there, you just couldn’t grasp it.

Wiress came over, looking lost, mumbling, “Tick tock.”

“It was coming down-”

“Tick tock.”

“-it was choking us.” She scoffed. “We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

“Tick tock.”

“That’s when Blight hit the force field.” She exhaled, shaking her head as Wiress continued to mumble. “He wasn’t much, but he was from home.” You reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder.

You understood what she meant. You’d felt the same feeling before, when the male tribute from district 4, Bay, died during your Games. You didn’t always know the person you were going in with, but you became bonded by the experience. That loss was unlike anything you’d ever felt to this day.

Wiress kept going on in the background, making you glance at her. “What’s wrong with her?” you finally asked.

“She’s in shock,” Beetee replied, coming out of the water. “Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have fresh water?”

“Yeah, we can get some.”

“Tick tock. Tick tock.” You turned to see Wiress had grabbed onto Johanna’s shoulders. “Tick tock. Tick tock.”

Johanna grabbed onto her forearms, trying to get her off. “Listen- stop it!”

She had pushed her onto the sand when Katniss yelled, “Hey, lay off her!” She went and shoved Johanna, making you rush over.

You shoved Katniss away from her, pushing her hard enough that she staggered backward. “Back off, Everdeen!” you warned as Finnick held Johanna back from retaliating, but she shouted back.

“What’s wrong with you?! I got them out for you!” She struggled against Finnick. “Let me go, Finnick!”

Peeta came over to help balance Katniss. Her eyes were wild, like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. “For me? What does that mean?”

The question wasn’t directed at you, but you responded, anyway. “I don’t know and I don’t care, but you better watch it, Everdeen.” You stepped forward, looking her right in the eye as she stared back challengingly. You lowered your voice. “You’ve played with fire before, but I am telling you right now, I will light your ass up the next time you try me.” She opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “Don’t underestimate me again.”

You walked off before you could hear her reply. If she said another thing to you right now, it was highly likely that you’d do something you would or wouldn’t regret. You weren’t gonna test it.

You decided to take Wiress into the water and help her clean herself up to calm down. She smiled at you crazily. “Tick tock.”

You sighed, “Yes, tick tock.”

“Tick tock.” She repeated herself over and over again, reminding you so much of Annie. Wiress was one of the smartest people you had ever met, yet she was reduced to this every time she was in a bad situation. She won her Games through a loophole, and in turn, that loophole sucked her in until she was too deep to get out.

As you rinsed her hair, she gasped, “Tick tock. Tick tock!” Immediately afterward, lightning struck the tree in the distance, the same tree as the night before. You tilted your head. The tree, fog, apes, waves, blood rain. Wiress looked up at you. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” you echoed, eyes darting around the arena. The tree, the fog, the apes, the waves, the rain.

“Tick tock.”

“Oh, my God.” You cupped your hand over your mouth in shock. “It’s a clock.”

“Tick tock.”

You pulled her out of the water, engulfing her in a hug. “Wiress, you’re a genius!” When you let go, you ran with her to the others. “It’s a clock!”

They all looked to you. Finnick furrowed his brows. “What?”

“It’s a clock!” You pointed to the Cornucopia. “The arena is laid out like a clock!”

Peeta came forward. “Holy shit.”

You ran your hands threw your hair, all of the puzzle pieces falling into place. “It’s, um- there’s a new threat every hour. They- they can only stay in their wedge, though.” You pointed at the tree. “It starts with lightning, then blood rain, fog, monkeys- that’s the first four hours. Then at ten, that big wave hits.”

Finnick chuckled slightly under his breath. “Wiress, you’re a genius.”

Peeta then cut in, suggesting you all get to the Cornucopia, so that’s what you did. Just as you were getting there, he pointed out, “Look, the tail points to twelve.”

Katniss filled in the blank. “That’s where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight.”

Wiress sat down on the rocks, singing to herself while the rest of you gathered around Peeta who mapped out the clock in the sand and what you already knew.

You crossed your arms. “Okay, what else?” You turned to Johanna. “Did you guys see anything?”

She snorted under her breath, “Nothing but blood.”

Peeta replied, “Doesn’t matter. As long as we steer clear of whichever sector is active, we’ll be safe.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, safe from nature.” As if you jinxed it, Wiress gasped immediately after you spoke. You turned so fast you could’ve gotten whiplash, in time to see Gloss pulling a knife out of Wiress’ neck.

Katniss worked fast, shooting him in the chest, but he wasn’t working alone. Right after, Cashmere came running at her. Johanna pushed Katniss out of the way, embedding her axe into Cashmere’s skull.

The other half of the Careers revealed themselves, Brutus throwing staffs at you that you narrowly dodged. Katniss’ arrow missed Enobaria as she threw a knife at Finnick, grazing his arm.

“Bitch,” you swore, throwing a knife of your own at her head, cursing again when it hit her shoulder instead. You went running after her, chasing her around the Cornucopia, but you suddenly lost your footing.

Gamemakers.

The island spun around. You grabbed onto the rock as best as you could, digging your nails into it so hard that they started to bleed. You were determined to stay alive, to keep Finnick alive, but your hold wasn’t strong enough. A scream left your lips as your fingers slipped. Finnick yelling your name was the last thing you heard before you went flying into the water.

Once upon a time, you were a swimmer.

You never thought you’d die by drowning.

And you refused to let that be the way you went out.

You fought hard against the current, using all your force to get above water. You gasped as you surfaced, taking in a large breath of air and coughing as you swam to the rock closest to you.

“Y/N!”

Finnick came running over to you, pulling you up and crouching down to your level. He ran his fingers through your hair, eyes darting all over your body with concern. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, nodding, and then he immediately embraced you tightly. His heart was beating just as fast if not faster than yours. For a moment, you couldn’t hear anything but that beating. You couldn’t hear the water, or the birds, or anyone else around you. You couldn’t even hear the music.

It was just the two of you.

And then that moment ended far too quickly.

Johanna brought you back to earth, heaving, “Let’s just get what we need and get off this bloody island.” You nodded against Finnick’s chest, letting him help you up. You muttered to him that you were fine, but he completely ignored you, helping you walk.

He was good, you thought. You would’ve been good together, in another life. It would’ve been nice to have been loved by this man, but life was never so kind to you.

You made it back to the beach, sitting on the sand under a tree. You weren’t relaxing like before; the time to relax had passed. You were nearing the end of The Games; it was time to plan for survival.

“So, besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asked.

You looked right at her as you answered, “Maybe Chaff. Just those three.” You maintained eye contact with her, knowing that she was thinking the same thing as you. It wasn’t just those three. It was also all of you, sitting here.

Alliances always came to an end in the arena.

You knew Finnick must have caught onto this, but he pretended not to. “They know they’re outnumbered. I doubt they’ll attack again. We’re safe here on the beach.”

Safe for how long? you wondered. Even if the three of them were killed by the horrors of the jungle, you still wouldn’t be safe. None of you would be, as long as you were together.

“So what do we do? We hunt ‘em down?” Johanna questioned, looking to all of you for an answer of some sort, but before any of you could formulate one, you heard a girl scream.

A little girl.

“Katniss, help me!”

Katniss shot up immediately. “Prim!” You remembered that name from the year prior. That was her sister. Your eyes widened, trying to stop her, but she was up and running into the jungle.

You ran after her, hearing the others follow suit. “Katniss! Katniss, stop!”

She was running so far ahead of you that you almost lost sight of her, but you found her stopped, shooting down a bird. “Katniss!” She turned to you, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

Before she could even respond, you heard your own name being called. “Y/N!”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. Katniss was trying to talk to you, but it was like her voice was muffled to you. “Y/N-”

“Mom?”

“Y/N, it’s not real-”

It was almost like Katniss wasn’t there at all. You ran farther into the jungle, screaming, “Mom?!”

Katniss was shouting your name, but the only voice you could hear was your mother’s. “Y/N!” Katniss ran in front of you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders. “It’s not her! It’s just a jabberjay-”

You cut her off, shoving her away. “How do you think they got that sound, Katniss? Jabberjays copy!” Her eyes glazed over at your words, and then a new voice joined the mix, making her shake her head fervently.

Whatever she was saying now, you could barely pay attention to it, hearing someone else call your name, the voice of a person you never thought you’d hear again.

“Bay?” You gasped. Tears came to your eyes. It escaped you that Bay was dead, that you held him in your arms as he died. All you could focus on was just how real his voice sounded.

Jabberjays swarmed around you, the voices now louder than ever. Katniss grabbed your arm and you, not there, let her drag you away, running away from the voices instead of toward them.

Your mother’s and Bay’s voices mixed together, screaming your name, your mother who you hadn’t spoken to in years and the boy who you let down. You screamed, too, trying to drown them out, but they were too loud.

Soon, Johanna, Peeta, and Finnick came into your vision. They were saying things, but they fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear anything but the screams.

You hit a wall, banging on it. Finnick stood on the other side, trying to speak to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. The dam in your eyes broke, tears running down your face like a waterfall.

You sunk to the ground, hands on your ears, sobbing.

“Y/N!”

“You killed me!”

“No, no, no,” you wailed, but they weren’t stopping.

“You killed me, Y/N!” Bay.

“You broke my heart.” Mom.

“I’m dead because of you!” Bay.

“I lost my daughter.” Mom.

“It’s all your fault.” Bay.

“You’re a monster.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You’re not my daughter anymore.” Mom.

“You’re a killer.” Bay.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You deserve to die.” Mom.

You don’t know when they stopped. You still heard the echoes of their voices in your head when they were gone. “Y/N!” Someone touched your shoulder, making you flinch. “It’s done. The hour’s done- it’s okay.”

You shot up, seeing Finnick right next to you. “My mom? Where’s my mom- Bay. Where’s- where’s-”

He grabbed your shoulders. “They’re not here, Y/N. It wasn’t real.”

You panted, shuffling back away from Finnick, but he didn’t let you get far, pulling you to him. You tried to fight against it, but he wasn’t letting up. Eventually, you gave up trying to fight, letting him hold you. He pet your hair, whispering to you.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You let the sound of his heart calm you down. It wasn’t real, you told yourself. Bay was dead. Your mom was okay. Finnick is alive. That’s what mattered.

After a few moments, you got up, Finnick watching you wearily. Johanna didn’t say anything, shooting you a look. You knew what she meant. You nodded, telling her without words that you were okay. You had to be okay. She nodded back.

You looked over, seeing Peeta still calming Katniss down on the ground. “Okay? They won’t touch Prim. Alright?” She shakily nodded, collecting herself.

“Your fiancé’s right. The whole country loves your sister.” You looked back to Johanna, seeing her standing on a rock. Her voice was both assuring and bitter. “If they tortured her or did anything to her-” she paused, chuckling, “forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn Capitol.”

She glanced to you and you saw the sheer fire in her eyes. Oh, you’d give anything to burn down that city with Snow in it.

“Hey, how does that sound, Snow?” She shouted, looking up to whatever cameras were in the sky. “What if we- what if we set your backyard on fire? You know, you can’t put everybody in here.” She turned back to you, seeing you all staring at her. “What? They can’t hurt me.” She shrugged, her voice was lowering as she looked to the ground. “There’s no one left that I love.”

You knew that Katniss and Peeta couldn’t have known the true depth of her words, but Beetee did. Finnick did. You did. Anyone watching at home- they couldn’t have understood. They must’ve thought she was crazy, but did any of them have even the slightest idea of who you all were? Did they know that she wasn’t always like this, that they made her this way? You were kids and the Capitol stole your innocence like it was nothing. For you and Finnick, they did it by selling you, and for Johanna, they did it by killing her family.

It may not have been fair to call Katniss lucky, she lost a lot, but at least her sister was alive. At least she still had a family. At least she wasn’t completely dead inside, like Johanna. Like Finnick.

Like you. Johanna ended up walking off, giving the excuse that she’d get you both water. You all made your way back to the beach after that. You sat there, staring off into the distance. This place could’ve been beautiful, you thought. But now blood had been spilled all over it.

What was beautiful about that?

You didn’t have all the answers. Right now, it felt like you didn’t know anything. All you knew was that the man you loved was alive, arm wrapped around you, heart beating. Did he know that he was the only “sure” thing you had? Did he know how much you loved him?

It felt like you were supposed to tell him. You were gonna die soon; The Games would come to end, and so would your life. It felt like he was supposed to know. If you were gonna die, then shouldn’t he at least knew how you felt about him, how in love you were with him?

The answer you came to was no. You weren’t gonna complicate things—God knew this was already complicated enough, this thing you had. You didn’t have time to learn new steps to the dance. You just wanted to let the music play and dance until you couldn’t dance anymore.

You had been sitting there for a little while when Katniss broke the silence. “Who’s Bay?” You turned to her, but she wasn’t looking at you, staring at nothing like you were.

“Katniss-” Finnick tried to interject, but you stopped him, putting your hand on his without looking at him. If you looked him in the eye right now, then he’d be able to tell just how broken you felt. He could read you so easily. You didn’t want him to read you right now when you didn’t have the energy to fake it.

You didn’t want him to see you getting ready to die.

You weren’t exactly Katniss’ biggest fan, and she wasn’t yours, but here you were, sitting together in the same arena. She was you. She was you before everything got bad, worse than it already was.

Soon, you wouldn’t be allies anymore. Soon, one of you would die. So you’d bring down the mask, just for a second. Before you ended up on different sides, you’d show her that you were just like her.

“Bay…” you faltered, “I guess I didn’t know him all too well. Lived in the same district for fifteen years, but I never even spoke to him before we were in that arena, and by then, it was too late.” A burning sensation grew in your throat. “He died in my arms. He- he was gonna take the money from winning and take care of his parents, make sure they didn’t have to worry. He didn’t get to. So I did. I took care of ‘em- didn’t even dent my pockets.” A humourless chuckle left your lips. “You know, my mom and I don’t talk anymore. Says I’m a different person, and she’s right. So, sometimes, I think Bay was just better off.”

Katniss finally turned to you. She didn’t say anything- she didn’t have to. You saw the look in her eyes; she understood. But you wished she didn’t. You wished that nobody had to understand. You wished that Johanna didn’t understand, that Finnick didn’t understand. You wished that you could’ve all just been kids for a little while longer.

That’s when you got up, walking over to where the sand met the water. You wanted to admire this place before you were gone.

You heard someone walk up behind you, immediately knowing it was Finnick.

His voice was quiet, even though you were far from everyone else. “You never told me about Bay’s parents.” If only he knew all the things you didn’t tell him.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you just said, “I know.” He didn’t say anything else after that, wrapping arm around your waist and pulling you to him. You stared off into the distance together, just like those cold nights at the Capitol you spent together.

Sometimes, saying nothing with him was the equivalent of saying everything.

Sometimes, it was better than saying anything.

You hadn’t been standing there for too long when Johanna came over, telling you guys that Beetee had a plan. You joined the others, listening to him explain how he wanted to lure the Careers to the beach then electrocute them as lightning struck the tree at midnight.

It was risky, and it all counted on the Brutus and Enobaria being at the beach in the first place, but you supposed it beat going into combat with them. You could take them if you needed to, but if there was a plan you could implement to avoid that, then you would.

If this plan worked, then the Careers would die instantly, leaving only the six of you in the arena. But only one of you would walk out, and it had to be Finnick.

Despite how the two of you had been at each other’s throats, you didn’t want to kill Katniss. You didn’t want to kill Peeta, the boy who reminded you so much of Finnick. You didn’t want to kill Beetee, who had made you laugh so many times you were at the Capitol. And you certainly didn’t want to kill Johanna, who was perhaps one of the only friends you had.

You hoped it wouldn’t be you, that you wouldn’t be the one to kill them. You didn’t want to kill anymore. You just wanted this to end.

You were so consumed by these thoughts that you missed the looks Finnick and Johanna shared and the look Beetee threw their way.

By nightfall, you were back in the jungle, making your way to the lightning tree. Beetee said something science-y, then you got started, wrapping the wire he invented around the tree.

“Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy. We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits,” he said, finishing one last wrap before walking over to you, coil in hand. “You three girls, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully. Make sure the entire coil is in the water. You understand? Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector. We’ll meet you there.”

You nodded, grabbing the coil as Peeta cut in, “I’m gonna go with them as a guard.”

You snorted, “What, golden boy, afraid we can’t protect ourselves?” Even in the dark, you could see the redness climb up his neck. “Don’t worry, your fiancé’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right. They can protect themselves just fine. You’re staying here to protect me. And the tree,” Beetee dictated.

You glanced between Katniss and Peeta, spotting hesitation in both of them. It was happening, you realized. They were already moving to the other side of the board.

“No, I need to go with her.”

“There are two Careers out there. I need at least two guards.”

“Finnick can protect you just fine on his own- Y/N and I could trade places.”

Katniss now spoke up, “Yeah, why don’t Johanna, Finnick, and Y/N stay with you and Peeta and I’ll take the coil?”

“You want to face the Careers by yourself?” You narrowed your eyes. Katniss looked to you, trying to maintain an unwavering expression. “You do realize that you’ve only been at this a year, right? Not only that, you’re from 12. These are people who trained their whole lives just to kill.”

Katniss didn’t have a response, just as you expected. Finnick must have caught onto the tension, questioning, “Is there a problem here?”

Beetee responded speedily, “Excellent question.” Katniss looked back to him, and you knew that she knew her fight was over. She was out of her depth here.

After a second, she replied, “No. There’s no problem.” Not yet, but knowing her, there would be one soon. You and Johanna waited for her to say her goodbyes to Peeta before getting ready to go.

You were walking away when you suddenly came to a stop. You passed the coil to Katniss, then walked back to the tree. Finnick’s brows raised as you beelined for him, but then his eyes just closed as your lips met his.

The music was louder than it’d ever been, like it knew that the beat could drop any minute now. This kiss was equal passion and softness. You kissed him like you’d never get do it again, and that could very well be true. He kissed back just as passionately, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

You knew Finnick didn’t love you. You knew he had a girl waiting for him back home, but if you were gonna die, then you just wanted to do that one last time. You wanted one last kiss from your one true love, even if you weren’t his.

When you eventually pulled away for air, he still didn’t let you go, resting his forehead against yours as you both breathed heavily. “I- I need to go now.”

He ran a hand through your hair, opening his eyes to look into yours. “I’ll see you at midnight?” You smiled, hoping he didn’t see how sad you were.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at midnight,” you said, knowing how probable it was that you wouldn’t.

Then you walked away.

The jungle was dead silent except for the sound of your footsteps and crickets. All you had to do was get to the beach, then get as far away from it as possible. You wanted to meet Finnick at midnight.

But that wasn’t gonna happen.

Katniss suddenly stopped. You looked to her, seeing her trying to pull the coil to no avail. “There’s something…” She pulled it again, and then the wire snapped.

You saw Brutus, knowing Enobaria couldn’t have been far away. You pulled your sword out of its sheath while Katniss drew an arrow, but before either of you could do anything, you were falling to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your head spun. You didn’t need to see it to know that you were losing blood—you could feel it. Get up, get up, get up, get up, you chanted, but it was as if your limbs were frozen.

You heard Katniss scream. You mustered up the strength to turn you head, seeing Johanna leaning over her, cutting into her arm. She shushed her, then looked up and cursed under her breath.

“Both of you, stay down,” she grit out, then she threw her axe at targets you couldn’t see, running away from you both. She did this, you realized. For some reason, you were shocked, but didn’t you always know this would happen? Didn’t you always know that you’d end up against each other in the end?

Didn’t you already know this would end in your last breath?

You did, but you still found yourself questioning: was this it? Was this how you died? Did Johanna just leave you to die?

Suddenly, you could hear Finnick, screaming yours and Johanna’s names. You wanted to scream back, to tell him you were right there, but it was like your mouth couldn’t form the words.

This was it. This was how you died.

You’d been preparing for this since the Quell was even announced, but you just weren’t expecting it, not yet. There were still people left.

At that thought, it was like the world stopped.

There were still people left.

You couldn’t just leave Finnick to fend for himself.

You shot up as if you had just been doused in cold water, reaching beside you to feel that your sword was still there. Your eyes searched for Katniss. She was just right next to you, but now she was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even know that she left.

You shakily stood up, dots dancing around your vision the same way you were. You still had dancing to do.

A cannon fired, and you started running, screaming Finnick’s name, not caring if alerted anyone of where you were. You ran faster as you heard the sky booming.

Soon, Finnick came into your vision, Katniss not far from him, aiming an arrow up to the sky.

And then you saw nothing.

The last thing you remembered was being blasted backward, sparks everywhere, lightning.

And then the music stopped.

When Finnick woke up, it was like he almost forgot where he was, and then he remembered what happened. Katniss shot an arrow at the force field.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, pushing past the aching in his bones and sitting up, looking around. Katniss and Beetee were lying down in front of him, still asleep. He furrowed his brows. There was no one else.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for you, looking for a sign that you were here, but he couldn’t find one.

“Y/N?” His voice echoed in the empty room. You didn’t answer.

He got up, calling your name louder. “Y/N?” Still no answer.

This was impossible. You had to be here, you had to be on the hovercraft somewhere, you just had to. His mind went to the worst case scenario, but that couldn’t be. You had to be here.

He went for the first doors he saw, expecting to see you on the other side, but he was only met with Haymitch and Plutarch. His heart beat faster now. Where were you?

He ignored Haymitch completely, turning to Plutarch. “Where is she?” It should’ve been an easy answer, but the Gamemaker had an expression that Gamemakers rarely had. Sympathy.

No. This can’t be happening.

He stepped closer, venom in his voice. “Where is she?”

Haymitch intervened. “Finnick, maybe you wanna sit down-”

“Where the fuck is my girlfriend?” They both gave each other a look that infuriated him even further. “Is someone gonna tell me where she is or are you two just gonna stand here all day?”

“Finnick-”

“Where is she, Plutarch?”

The greying man stared at him like he was hesitant to speak, which was saying something, because Plutarch always said whatever was on his mind. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, like he was trying to calm down a rabid animal. “Her tracker was never removed-”

“Okay, so where is she?”

“We couldn’t get her, Finnick.” His ears rang.

They couldn’t get her.

“We couldn’t get Johanna and Peeta, either-”

All of a sudden, Finnick charged at him, but Haymitch quickly went and stopped him, holding him back. “You said you’d get her out! You told me she was gonna be safe!”

“Calm the hell down, Finnick!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” He pushed himself out of Haymitch’s arms, turning and glaring at him. “Katniss is here! Of course, you’re calm- my person is still out there!”

“She’s still alive.”

“Yeah, for how long?”

Plutarch cut in, “They won’t kill her, Finnick. They know how valuable she is.”

“You don’t have to make someone’s heart stop to kill them, Heavensbee,” he spat. “If anyone should know that, it’s you.” The Gamemakers were creative. He knew that the Capitol would spare no expense to hurt you.

After what they did, rebelling like this, you’d be the one to answer for it. Even though you didn’t know a thing about it.

“Listen, kid, you need to calm down now.” Haymitch looked at him with hard eyes. “You need to pull it together. When Katniss wakes up, she’s gonna be confused and angry, just like you. We need her. If you want any of this to mean something, if you want any chance of ever seeing your girl again, then we need her. So you need to cool it.”

Finnick ran a hand through his hair, mind moving seventy miles per hour. The Capitol had you. They had you. You were supposed to be here, and they had you, and he didn’t even get the chance to tell you. There was so much to tell you, and what if he never got that chance again?

Haymitch was right. If he wanted to see you again, to have that chance, to ever dance with you again, then he had to pull it together. He had to be strong.

For you.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?”

Your death was always expected, at least it was to you. When you pictured an ending in your head, this was it. You knew it was coming. What you didn’t expect was ever waking up again.

But you did.

Your eyes opened to a dark room, fluorescent lights flickering on the ceiling. This wasn’t the arena, but you’d soon learn that you didn’t need to be in an arena to play a twisted game.

Am I alive? you wondered.

Your question was soon answered. No, you weren’t alive. You were in Hell.

Because, sitting in a chair across from you, was the Devil himself.

President Snow smiled. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It appears that you and I have a lot to discuss.”

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies

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lunarbuck · 11 months

Text

Dumb Bunny (dark!winter soldier xf!reader)

a dark little red riding hood retelling

pairing: dark!winter soldier x f! reader (any race)

wc: 3.3k

summary: The Wolf sees you walking through the forest on your way to your grandmother's house, and he just can't help himself.

warnings: dark fic, knives, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [bunny], degradation, primal play, predator/prey, fear, crying

a/n: this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic's fairytale writing challenge :) I hope you guys enjoy!

beta'd by the amazing @sgt-seabass <3

my masterlist

The sight of your home village warms your heart. You’ve been away for so long and missed so much. It’s good to be back. You pull the hood of your cape up to keep the sun off your face and venture into the heart of the village.

After gathering some sweets and a few loaves of bread, you bid farewell to the friendly faces you pass. As lovely as the village is, you can’t shake the feeling that something is just slightly… wrong.

The edge of the forest calls to you, the familiar sound of songbirds lulling you in. You’ve traveled this path hundreds of times; you know it with your eyes closed, even after all this time. Beautifully bright flowers bloom just off the beaten path. You gaze at them but don’t stop to pick any. Grandmother is expecting you. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, you feel guilty you haven’t visited sooner.

As you walk, you hear footsteps crunch through the fallen leaves. You turn around, the hem of your cape fluttering with the movement. Behind you, you see a tall mountain of a man. Cloaked in black, the man stalks toward you. You’ve heard whisperings of him in town, the Wolf, they call him.

“Excuse me, miss,” he coos, voice deep and gravelly. “Where are you headed? A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone in these woods,” he whispers. “There is danger around every corner.”

You know what people say about the Wolf, the things he’s rumored to have done. That he’s a killer, that he roams the woods hunting unsuspecting victims. He’s ruthless, coldblooded and animal-like in his violence. You’re sure the rumors are true as you gaze up at his bright eyes. Fear flashes through your mind as you stare at him. His eyes are a stark, beautiful blue. His hair, dark and inky, frames his face, though most of it is covered by a black mask.

“I’m visiting my grandmother’s house,” you tell him, smiling politely. You’ve always been taught to be kind to strangers, and this stranger, in particular, the way he’s looking at you, seems to scream danger. You don’t want to risk slighting him.

“Ah,” the Wolf replies, raising his eyebrows. “And what might you have there in your basket?” You move the cloth, showing the Wolf your various sweets and loaves of bread. You imagine he is licking his lips behind his mask. Images of his lips on you, of him kissing you deeply, of him tasting you, flash through your mind, and you quickly shut your eyes. You try to shake off the heat that’s settled in your belly. You shouldn’t think that way about a stranger.

“Well, I must be going. Grandmother is expecting me.” You nod to the Wolf and cover your basket, returning to the path you’d been following. Each breath feels tight in your chest.

“What a shame,” he calls. “The birds are singing so sweetly.” Your steps slow as you allow yourself to listen to the songs that float through the air, but you continue on. You can always listen to the birds as you walk.

“Ah, but the flowers are so beautiful this time of year. Wouldn’t your grandmother enjoy a bouquet?” The Wolf asks, again halting your walking. You glance at the flowers off the path, practically preening for you in the sunlight. Grandmother has always loved the wildflowers; maybe you could spare a few moments to gather a small bouquet.

“I suppose…” You glance back at the Wolf, finding that he has continued to follow you down the path. He’s so close now that if you breathed deeply, your back would touch his chest. Your heart stutters with fear. How did he move so quickly without you hearing? How did you not feel him approach?

“You don’t want to miss out on all the beauty,” he whispers, leaning down beside your ear. With two long fingers, the Wolf tugs your hood off your head, letting the breeze flutter against your neck. He breathes deeply, and your knees wobble as you feel the heat the Wolf emanates. Something sharp trails down your neck, a stinging pain following close behind, and your eyes widen.

Not even a breath later, he’s gone. You shudder at his sudden absence and quickly dart your eyes around, looking for the Wolf, but he’s disappeared into the shadows.

You try to calm your nerves, focusing instead on the flowers glittering just a few paces away. You kneel down, gathering your skirts to prevent them from getting dirty. The flowers are soft against your fingertips as you pick the perfect ones. All the while, the Wolf’s beautiful blue eyes burn in your mind.

The Wolf

Poor, poor grandmother, I think to myself as I drag the woman out of her woodland home and into the glade. She’ll wake up eventually, but not before I do what I want. Not before I take care of her sweet, beautiful little granddaughter.

I go back into the house and take in the empty space. Photos of my little bunny are everywhere, school photos and memories of vacations. She looks so delectable in her too-small bikini, her bright smile practically blinding me.

Next, I climb the stairs, finding myself in the room I had just dragged her grandmother from. The four-poster bed takes up most of the room, fabric hanging from the top of the frame like a canopy. I grin at the thought of taking my bunny here, her tears staining the blanket. Her screams filling the air. I feel myself hardening in my pants, and I adjust my cock.

When I saw her walking through town, my mouth watered. She looked so beautiful in her red cloak, the sun warming her skin. She looked good enough to fucking eat. I followed her from a distance, but once she entered the forest, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The smell of her when I got close… I could barely hold myself back. I wanted to grab her right then and there. I wanted to fuck her into the dirt. But good things come to those who wait.

I am not a patient man, and I always get what I want. Always.

So, I lay down on the bed, the canopy concealing me well enough, and wait.

And wait, and wait.

Until I hear the door creak open.

“Grandmother?” My bunny calls. I can practically hear the smile on her lips. I grin beneath my mask, fingers itching to touch her. To mark her. I hear her footsteps as she wanders into the house. My heartbeat speeds up, ready for the hunt.

“Grandmother?” She calls again, this time even closer. I see her shadow as she comes up the stairs, and a moment later, she pushes open the bedroom door. “Oh, Grandmother, are you ill?” Through the canopy, I see her set down a vase of flowers, the ones she picked in the woods, and her basket, full of sweets.

Her fingers gently curl around the canopy’s fabric and tug it aside. Her eyes widen, and her lips part on a scream, but I’m already moving. I lunge, grab her, and push her down onto the mattress. My hand presses over her mouth, absorbing her scream.

“So fucking beautiful when you scream, bunny,” I growl, dipping my head into the crook of her neck. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of fear mixing with the floral scent of her perfume.

My bunny writhes and struggles against me, but it’s no use. I’m bigger than her, stronger than her. She’ll never escape me. She heaves her breath behind my hand, so I take it off of her, not minding if she screams. No one will hear her anyways.

“What– what are you doing?” She whimpers, tears streaking down her face.

I don’t answer. Instead, I straddle her hips, pinning her to the bed. I run my hands along her torso and up to her breasts. She fits perfectly in my hands, and I flick my eyes to hers, watching her reaction. I can see the way she struggles with herself. The way she wants to give in to me, but something holds her back.

“Oh, bunny,” I whisper, my hands coming up to curl around her neck. “What a beautiful neck you have.” I squeeze her neck lightly, giving her just a taste of what I want, and I see the way her pupils dilate. Her hips jolt up into mine, and I grin beneath my mask.

She breathes heavily, lips parting into a perfect, soft ‘o’. “And what perfect lips you have.” I move one hand up, running my thumb across her beautiful mouth. I lean down close, cupping her jaw.

I want to taste her, I want to rip this fucking mask off my face and taste my little bunny, but I can’t. Not yet. I need to be patient. I sit up, slipping a knife out of my belt and flicking it open. Her eyes widen at the glinting blade.

“Please,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes again. “Please don’t hurt me.” I grin.

“My poor, stupid, little bunny. The more you beg me not to, the more I want to hurt you.” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and I stifle a moan. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without her, how I’m going to go on living if I don’t have her by my side.

“What did you do to my grandmother?” She asks, voice wavering.

“You don’t want to know, bunny.” Her tears stream down her cheeks, and she hiccups as she sobs. She’s fucking perfect. I take in the sight of her blood-red cloak stark against the white sheets. I run the knife along the side of her face, not cutting or scratching her but letting her feel the sharp edge.

I slide off the bed, dragging the knife down the center of her sternum between her breasts and down her torso. I see the thoughts running through her pretty little head. I know she wants to run. I hope she does. I step back and watch her fingers twitch before she darts off the bed. Her red cape flutters behind her as she saints down the stairs. I give her a head start before giving chase. My little bunny is more perfect than she could ever know.

After taking a steadying breath, I take off after my bunny. She left the front door open, and I catch sight of the hem of her cape as she dives behind a tree. She ran pretty far, I’ll give her that, but she won’t escape me. Never.

My feet pound on the ground as I chase her, adrenaline coursing through my veins. She keeps running, doing her best to hide as she goes deeper into the forest, but she’s not fast enough. I catch up quickly, making sure she knows just how close I am. Whenever she hears my boots snap a twig, she yelps, tripping over her feet. As we get further away from the house, she loses steam. I grin as she stumbles, constantly looking back to see me hunting her.

Bunny’s cape gets caught on a branch, and she falls, landing hard in the dirt. She tries to crawl away, but she knows it’s no use. I stalk toward her, loving the way she shakes with each breath, and sink to the ground by her head.

I grip her by her hair, lifting her face out of the dirt, and lean down. “You lose, bunny.” She gasps as I bring out my knife, holding it near her cheek as I turn her. Even though she ran and wants to think she’s afraid of me, I know what she wants. I can fucking smell it on her. Can taste it in the air.

“Please,” she whispers, fingers digging into the leaves on the ground. Her thighs rub together beneath her skirts, and my mouth waters. I know she won’t run this time, not when she’s so close to getting what she wants.

I remove my mask, tugging it from my face with my other hand. Her lips part as her eyes search my features. I move between her legs, running a hand along one of her legs. I push up her skirt, exposing her soft skin. With my knife, I run the tip along her leg, up and up, until I reach her panties. She can’t hide how needy she is. My bunny writhes in the dirt, begging me to touch her with her big beautiful eyes. I slide my knife beneath the waistband of her panties, slicing the fabric. I cut a matching slit near her other leg, tugging the material away. She shivers as the cool air hits her cunt.

“What a pretty pussy you have, bunny,” I growl, lowering my face to the crux of her thighs. She watches me with lust-filled eyes, nodding like the dumb little bunny she is. I bite her inner thigh, leaving an imprint of my teeth on her skin.

“What beautiful eyes you have,” she tells me, a small smile on her lips.

“The better to see you with, bunny.” I run my nose along her pussy, and she bites back a moan. My tongue laves along her clit, and I hear her breath hitch.

“What–” she gasps when I press a finger inside her tight cunt. “What a perfect mouth you have.” I groan against her pussy, devouring her like my last meal.

“The better to eat you with,” I mutter into her pussy. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She tastes so fucking sweet, practically dripping against my lips. I knew my bunny would be perfect, but she’s better than I ever could have dreamed.

“Please, please,” she whimpers, begging for her release. I curl my finger inside of her, looking for the spot that makes her squirm, and brush my teeth over her sensitive clit. My little bunny is so responsive for me, writhing around in the dirt.

“So fucking sweet, bunny, my own little treat.” Her whimpers get higher pitched, and I know she’s close. I’m practically humping the dirt, I’m so hard, but all I can think about is how good my bunny is being and how fucking perfect she’s going to feel wrapped around my cock.

I work her right up to the edge, and when she’s gripping my hair so hard she’s about to pull it out, she breaks. She comes all over my tongue and finger, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I crawl up over her, my tongue running over my lips, gathering her taste. “What a good bunny,” I whisper, taking in the sight of her blissed-out expression. She wants more, though, I can tell.

Her eyes roam over my face, her hands tracing over my features. Her lips part, but she can’t seem to find the words. “Tell me what you want, bunny.” My finger circles her sensitive clit; she jolts.

She shudders but doesn’t speak. “Come on, bunny. I know you’re afraid. I know that you don’t want to admit it. You want my cock? Is that it, bunny? You want me to fuck you here in the dirt?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and fear flashes in her eyes. She knows I’m dangerous; she knows I am unpredictable.

“You wanna be my dirty bunny?” I ask her, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. “You’re my dumb fucking bunny, you know that? You’re gonna let me fuck you into the dirt, and you’re gonna love every second of it, isn’t that right?”

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips bucking against my fingers. “Please.”

“I need to hear you say it, bunny.” I bite her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and she gasps. “Tell me that you’re my dumb little bunny. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I see the way she hesitates, the way her mind runs through all the reasons she should fight me, but then I see the shift. I see the moment lust takes over, and she succumbs to her primal desires.

“I’m your dumb little bunny,” she whispers. I slide two fingers into her pussy, scissoring my fingers to stretch her. “And–” she sucks in a breath. “And I want– need you to fuck me.”

“Such a good bunny.” I settle back between her legs and pump my fingers, working her up again. I use my other hand to take off my belt. When my pants are down far enough, I palm my cock, moaning. She watches me with hooded, lust-drunk eyes, and I smirk. My dumb little bunny looks so pretty taking my fingers, but she’ll look even better taking my cock.

I take a long look at her pretty face before I grip her hips and turn her over. Hooking my hands underneath her, I position her with her ass high and her head in the dirt. This is how she was meant to be; she was fucking born for this.

I line my cock up with her perfect pussy and tease her clit, loving how she jolts each time. My little bunny has never looked better with her skirt shoved up on her waist and her face pressed against the earth.

“What a perfect bunny for me,” I tell her, spanking her ass. I press my cock into her, groaning as she squeezes me. She’s so fucking tight, so perfect, like she was made for me. Made for this. I slide in, loving how she stretches around my dick. Her face screws up the deeper I get, but I don’t give her time to adjust.

I set a brutal, deep pace, and electricity shoots up my spine. The sounds she’s making, the way her fingers dig into the dirt, are nearly too much for me to handle. The smell of sex and earth floods my nose, and I feel it flood my bloodstream.

She moans and whimpers with each thrust, pressing back with each thrust, egging me on. My little bunny wants me just as much as I want her. I lean down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and haul her torso up so she’s kneeling, arching against me. I run my tongue along the spot I’d cut earlier when I’d first spoken to her, tasting the sweet tang of her blood.

My little bunny has tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face. Her eyes are screwed shut as she takes my dick.

“Such a good little bunny,” I groan into her ear. “You were fucking made for this. You were fucking born to be my dumb bunny, to take my cock.” Her cunt flutters around my dick, and my hips stutter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants like a prayer. I drop a hand to her clit and circle it in a way that makes her throw her head back, and bite the cut on her neck. The combination of sensations throws her over the edge, and she convulses on my cock.

I press her back into the dirt and pound into her, slamming into her over and over again. I come on a moan, both of us collapsing. “Good bunny,” I whisper. “Such a good little bunny.”

She falls asleep, drained from the way I used her body, and I grin at the sight. She should know better than to fall asleep next to a predator like me. I brush the dirt from my pants, tucking my cock away, and pick her up. I carry her back to her grandmother’s house and lay her on the four-poster bed.

Next, I retrieve poor old grandmother. She’s still asleep. The drug I gave her will wear off soon. I place her on the couch in the front room. I’ll let my bunny find her when she comes to. I return to the bedroom and stare at my beautiful little bunny.

I don’t clean her up; I don’t even put her dress back. She looks perfect, dirty, and used against the bone-white sheets.

Just the way I like her.

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faeriekit · 7 days

Text

Salt Mirror

phic phight fill with two prompts; for @echoghost1 and @fuyuthefoxwriter

(Sister fics are Snow Day, Snowdrift Sanctuary, and Frozen Out)

********

The first thing Danny noticed was the teeth.

Or. Well. The first thing Frostbite noticed were the teeth. What Danny noticed was that suddenly he was being offered bigger and bigger bones with his meal, which were very much not typical human-appropriate food.

“You break them,” Frostbite showed him, pinning the bone between two sharp canines and biting down. The bone broke clean in two. Hot-dog style. “Then you are free to eat the marrow inside.”

Danny stared. “I don’t… I don't think my teeth do that.”

“Try it,” his guardian encouraged.

…Well. He hoped Far Frozen had as good a dentistry practice as they did medicine. Danny shoved the bone between his canine teeth, and clamped down—

—And the bone broke clean through.

Huh. That was…new.

Well. Marrow tasted good, anyway, and scooping the butter-soft marrow out with a spoon was easy. Danny might have clunked the wooden spoon against his teeth a couple times (man, was he clumsy today) but he was very happy with the results.

The next day Frostbite offered him an arm-length rib bone, Danny didn’t even hesitate to chomp down.

He ate through four ribs before he felt full. He was happy.

The second thing Danny noticed was how pale he got.

Like. As in ‘his arm matched the snow-white fur of his tundra-proof coat’ level pale. ‘White as a glacier and just as blue’ level pale. Like. There was no red left in his skin.

He pressed his thumb to his palm. It went yellow, and then flushed back to white as his blood went back in.

…Spooky. Uh. Danny blinked loudly. Maybe he was…sick…?

There wasn’t a mirror in their cave dwelling, and nothing was shiny enough to reflect in— everything that wasn’t medical was cast iron, or not quite mirror smooth, like Frostbite’s round cooking knives.

Danny needed a mirror.

He bundled up and walked through fresh snow drifts to the closest medical facility: an ice cave across from Ledyanoy and Avalanche’s home, carved into one of several dozen pillars of ice embedded into the floating island. Danny knew that there was a mirror there, since Frostbite went in for mirror therapy every time his ice-carved arm began to itch psychosomatically.

He darted inside. Pritla was the only one in there, so they ignored him in their quest for additional data. Great. All Danny needed was the mirror set up in the corner, ready and waiting to be rolled into place for Frostbite’s next session.

Danny peeked at his reflection. He looked…wow.

For one, Danny looked spooky as hell. The blue went all around his eyes, now— no whites to be seen, creating an uneasy, inhuman look. He was pale. He was very pale. He looked like the printer had run out of any colors that might have given him some sort of standing to wander reality with.

The insides of his lips were blue. The wet inner linings around his eyes were blue.

…What.

And. Speaking of…lips…his gums were a deep, sapphire blue, as was his tongue. None of that was as important as his huge freaking fangs, though!

Like! Huge! Not yeti huge, of course, but still!! Danny had no idea how they weren’t sticking straight out of his mouth when he closed it. Big, pearly fangs.

What the heck was happening to him?

“I think you’re turning into a Yeti,” Tundra decided primly, and flung himself at Arctic without any further thought. The teenage Yeti— still taller than Danny by two heads and a half— squawked, barely seeing the projectile cub in time to dodge appropriately.

“No,” said Danny. It was more outright denial than certainty. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself.

Avalanche, who was the closest to adulthood out of all of them, watched the two wrestle balefully. Tundra was barely out of cub age, and Arctic wasn’t much better than Sidney Poindexter when it came to having his crap together, so it was kind of like watching two frogs mud-wrestle in knee-high snow.

“I mean,” said Avalanche, mostly bored by the spectacle of Arctic getting his butt whipped by what amounted to a kid, “I’m pretty sure it’s normal for human-born ghosts to adapt to their Obsessions after they form. You have to change a little to match your environment. And we have a lot of snow.”

“So much!” Tundra howled from where he was perched on top of Arctic. His victory lasted as long as it took for Arctic to get his legs underneath himself, push himself to standing, and launch Tundra into a snow drift with a surprised squeal.

Arctic shook himself off. His fur fluffed up with the effort, which made him look larger in size than usual. “I think that if you were turning into a yeti, Frostbite would have noticed. Or said something. Or done something.”

Avalanche shook her head, gamely ignoring how Tundra had turned from a fallen-in-the-snow position to a crouching-and-ready-to-pounce position. Danny had seen this a million times now; either Arctic would notice (he wouldn’t) and dodge, or he’d once again fall victim to Tundra’s childish enthusiasm.

Danny and Avalanche largely had no comment on Tundra’s second leap of faith, nor for their mutual struggle for pubescent dominance that ensued.

There were other questions to ask.

“Am I turning into a yeti?” Phantom asked.

Frostbite looked down.

The half-ghost looked nervous— picking at his lip until green beaded under his teeth, his hands in the sleeves of his coat.

“No,” Frostbite confirmed. He didn’t smile, as it would have seemed condescending in the face of Phantom’s genuine worry. It was better to keep calm. “Why are you worried about turning into a yeti?”

Phantom stared up at him, eyes deep and luminous. Frostbite had seen similar coloration on deep-sea creatures, long-travelled things desperate for any sort of light. The sight was compelling, yes, but could not substitute for a verbal answer.

“...Because I’m changing colors and now I have sharp teeth and I think I’m growing claws,” Phantom pointed out. All of these things were true. They were very good, sturdy teeth, and very good, sturdy claws, which was a good sign; anything otherwise would have indicated a lack of support on Frostbite’s end.

“It is a very normal thing to want to explore other forms of expression at your age,” Frostbite pointed out. He threaded his paws through Phantom’s pale hair, and found, to his pride, little buds of ice horns. “And I am very flattered that you think so highly of us that you are interested in mimicking some of our more obvious traits; that being said, if it distresses you, you are always free to change back.”

Phantom’s face turned…lost. “Oh.”

Frostbite continued petting. More explanation would come, or it wouldn’t— but in the meantime, the human tinge returned to his charge’s cheeks, flush with red blood, and the bud horns collapsed where they grew. His charge’s hair turned dark once more, his teeth flat and human.

Phantom’s eyes were always blue. The human color was not as deep, but was just as nice. Now, there were tears in them.

“What is wrong, little one?” Frostbite rumbled, concerned. Phantom took his paw and pressed his face to it in search of tactile comfort.

“I didn’t know why I was changing,” Phantom admitted, sniffing. His voice was wet and raw. “I was scared I couldn’t go back. Humans don’t just…change like that, 'cause we're made of matter. I was scared…”

Frostbite rumbled wordlessly. His charge had adapted very well to a non-human environment, but there were knowledge gaps that would have come naturally to any Realms-Borne being; most intuitively was knowledge of the self, as well as the rigidity (and fluidity) of one’s own manner of expression.

Changing without realization would be distressing. Frostbite still remembered what it felt like to wake up some mornings and realize that his arm was gone.

“You are alright,” Frostbite reaffirmed. “It it healthy to change, and it is a good time to find out how you will want to present yourself. That being said, there is no rush.”

Frostbite paused.

“There is one rush. If you intend to partake in eating marrow with our dinner tonight, you may want to manifest your teeth again—”

Phantom laughed, little cub’s fangs poking out between his teeth. All would be well; but first, there was dinner to be had, and a good night’s sleep to be found.

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #phic phight 24 #i cannot remember what tags I have been using and it's kind of distressing ngl #danny phantom #far frozen #Frostbite #Danny Fenton #Yeti!OCs #'what do yeti teenagers do' idk babysit n roam around n hit each other probably #Danny's having an identity crisis which is p fair for cross-species adoption after your parents rejected you for expressing inherent traits #faer fic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Text

Ok vampire hunter!König is hot but how about vampire!Engel with vampire!König who seduced and turned her?

König is the meanest vampire there is.

He never lets his angel become an independent, strong creature of the night; instead, he keeps her in his tower and “teaches” her, telling her she must never venture out because the world is a dangerous place and mortals are more cunning than she can even imagine, and Engel, poor fresh young fledgling that she is, just looks up at him wide-eyed and lips drawn into a thin line and believes everything he says.

And so there’s really no one to tell her that König is shunned by all the other vampires: he has a reputation, he’s more feral than any of them and always keeps to himself, never comes to the balls or burdens himself with the need to charm anyone or even dress properly, he’s like a relic from the past when vampires had to scour their meal from wherever they could get it, filthy docks or poor cottages in the hills, bothering lowly peasants whose blood tastes like dung. König lives in a time of war even though there’s peace now, and plenty of good blood to feast on, he has even killed some of his own – Engel really doesn’t know the full depth of the trouble she’s in... She couldn’t have bumped into a more unfit, berserk, depraved sire.

He always picks her meal for her: always fragile, meek women, dragged to the tower screaming and pale and filled with fear and horror: and he doesn’t even let her feed alone because he likes to watch. No one tells her that this isn’t supposed to happen: that a lamia’s meal is a sacred ritual, it's between her and the sacrificial lamb, and it's also a moment when a vampire is at her most vulnerable... But no: König watches her like a mortal would watch pornography or an obscene play, and Engel thinks it’s perfectly normal, she just wants to please her master, as difficult and hard as it is to do so at times.

And sometimes she feels this odd yearning – she was such a cute, well-behaved mortal, she had her whole life ahead of her, she never did anything wrong, and she never asked to be turned... (yes Engel keep telling yourself that) She just wanted to talk to this mysterious highwayman who walked her home when she got lost in the woods, who gave her the most intense hand-kiss she had ever received and after that, left her a blood-red rose on her windowsill every night... And now she finds herself here, in this ungodly tower with a monster – a monster she hopelessly loves and adores.

Sometimes the need to feed grows too strong and she floats down the stairs, helpless and weak, only to be met with König’s imperious form as he opens the heavy oak door and immediately catches on to what’s going on. His heavenly angel was about to disobey him; clearly, she doesn’t yet understand the danger she’s in (in truth König is getting pale even at the thought of her finding some other mentor, were Engel to leave him he would crawl into his coffin and never come out again).

So into the coffin she goes, without breakfast, and has to stay there alone until he's sharpened his knives. Only when dawn is already about to break, only after the sturdy old pine box echoes with her pitiful little whimpers, König finally joins her, gathers Engel in his arms, asks her if she has learned her lesson now, hmm? She must understand that this is for her own good: he’s just ensuring that nothing bad happens to her. After all, she's his responsibility; it was fated that they met. She’s exactly where she belongs; she has nothing to fear.

Then he feeds her himself: another taboo and a perverse act of him, and even sicker than anyone could ever imagine because König pushes them both to their limits, getting lewd pleasure out of Engel drinking from him until he's near the point of going into rigor mortis, groaning that she needs to stop (secretly wishing she wouldn’t… Not just yet…)

And König never tells her that their kind is supposed to sleep in their own coffins for a variety of reasons. He allows her to sleep in his, never even gets her her own, getting sick satisfaction from the way she curls up and clings to him like a pathetic, helpless human.

The only things he gets her are stunning, gorgeously large white dresses: pompous and flowy and frilly and so heavy she can’t possibly even dream of escaping while wearing those. The only time there’s a slightly more benevolent look in those piercing cold blue eyes is when Engel laughs and spins around in them, fresh blood on her lips, eyes outshining all the night stars...

She’s truly the most innocent, beautiful creature he has ever seen. He almost feels… what was it that mortals called it?

Ah, yes. Love.

#yandere könig #supernatural au #vampire au #vampire!König #könig x reader #yandere vampire #tw: dark content

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space-mango-company · 29 days

Text

Stranger | Chapter 3

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: none for this one, I think

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Unedited for now! Holy moly, sorry for taking so long on this one. I was kinda drowning in uni work the past week. The next chapter should come sooner, I hope. Also just wanted to say thank you so much to those who take the time to comment!! I really really appreciate the kind words. You guys are super sweet. Mwa mwa.

The inky black fireworks exploded in the distance as you were led back into the underground chambers of the arena. Your eyes are relieved to escape the infrared sun. Heavy doors open for you once more. The na-Baron stands, chest exposed, skin slick with sweat under the artificial light. His blown-out eyes hone in on you as you enter. He makes his way to you holding the blood-stained handkerchief.

"Did you enjoy the show, my lady?" His chest heaves and you feel his heavy breaths as he leans into your ear, voice even more raspy, "Aren't you something, little hawk."

He holds the cloth up as if giving it to you but when you reach for the handkerchief he snatches it away.

You sigh and lift your veil, a sweet smile plastered on your face, "A most impressive demonstration, na-Baron. You are as formidable as they say."

Feyd-Rautha takes a moment to scan your face. He doesn't know what your game is but he wants to play.

His breathing has settled. He raises a hand to reach for your cheek but you move past him. You walk towards a table displaying knives laid over a cloth. You pick one up to examine. The blades remain uncleaned, the blood from earlier in the day already beginning to dry. You sense they will be kept that way.

"You have good form. Clean, precise," you say, holding the dagger in a reverse grip, edge out. "You enjoy it, don't you?"

From behind, you feel Feyd-Rautha close the distance between you once again.

"Perhaps you enjoy it a little too much," you turn to him, "I'm sure you let him disarm you on purpose. For the show."

Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and allows himself a small smile. "You should return to the fortress, my lady. I have duties to attend to," he touches your armed hand and gently takes the knife from you, "and my uncle would like to see you."

Despite being shielded from the black sun, you elect to keep your veil for your lunch with the Baron. You excuse the chill running down your spine as the coldness of the high, stony walls of Fortress Harko as Iassa escorts you to the dining hall. Iassa kept her head bowed, you noticed, hands folded in front of her. She didn't need to look ahead to know the way.

When you arrive, large doors open to the sight of the Baron floating at the head of the table. There was only one other seat at the side of the table a few feet from him. Despite that, there was a full spread of food which his servants were already feeding him.

You had done your best to avoid the Baron in your short time here, but it seems this meeting was inevitable.

"Lady Atreides," his eyes turn toward you lazily. "Come. Eat."

"Good afternoon, Baron," you curtsy as you enter. Iassa bows to you and waits outside. You take your seat, "will it only be us, my lord? This seems a lavish spread for only two people."

"Are you calling me a glutton, girl?" he spats.

Your heart takes a beat as you try not to stare at his grotesquely large body.

"We are Harkonnen," his husky laugh rings through the room. "We may lavish as much as we please."

You exhale the breath you were holding and let out a small laugh. Of course. They were the richest house in the Landsraad. The Harkonnens must be accustomed to excess.

"Soon, child, you will be Harkonnen as well," he says in that gravelly voice that is so uncomfortably similar to Feyd-Rautha's. "Is that what you want?"

The question takes you aback. No one has ever asked you this question before. This betrothal has been decided for so long, you've never even thought to ask the question yourself. It was all you'd known. Your duty. You had never bothered to imagine what your life would have been if you weren't destined to marry the Harkonnen heir.

You regain your composure, "Baron, it is my honor to unite our Great-"

"Drop the act, child!" he barks. "Perhaps you fear me, but if you are to become 'family', I will not have the patience for charades. Speak plainly. Do you want to marry my nephew?"

This has been a most unusual exchange. At least compared to what you're used to. Always taught to be sweet and pleasant. You suppose you had nothing to lose, considering the Baron killing you would start an all-out war. You take a moment to think, and then a deep breath.

"I am a woman, dear Baron. There is not much for me in this life. Indeed, tales of your house's savagery are well-known throughout the systems, and in Caladan more than most. But had I not been betrothed to your nephew, I would only be married off to some other lord or count or whatever, gentler than Feyd-Rautha they may be," you swallow. "Perhaps, I could have been trained a Bene Gesserit sister. However, to become the wife of the heir to one of the most powerful houses in the known universe—there are worse fates."

The Baron stares, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He waves his servants away. "Eat, child. Waste not the food of one of the most powerful houses in the known universe."

He begins to glide towards the doors on his side of the hall and his servants scurry to lay down their forks and follow after him.

You look to the remaining servants in the dining hall, then to the mounds of food on the table. Your first dinner on Giedi Prime had felt suffocating with all the nobles around and Feyd-Rautha smugly breathing down your neck. You pile your plate high.

In your quarters, Iassa helps you out of your clothes and into a warm bath. You don't wait for her and begin scrubbing your skin with a rag yourself. Between the heat from the morning gladiator fights and your tense conversation with the Baron, you were happy to wash the sweat off your body.

"Is this alright, my lady?" Iassa is trying to wash your hair with the lightest touch, "Does it hurt you?"

"No, no. It's quite alright." You take over and she moves to begin scrubbing your legs.

You're grateful you brought bottles of your own hair soaps. You notice Iassa is intently observing how you washed your hair and you appreciate her wanting to learn. Although, you surmise she might not have a choice. Her black choker seems to stand out even more against her pale skin.

"How was your day, Iassa?" you say as you lather your hair.

She pauses in confusion. "It was quite alright, my lady," her voice is soft and polite.

"Do they treat you well?" you knew it was a futile question.

"I am property of House Harkonnen, my lady," she says as she pours more water into the grey stone bath, "I am treated appropriately."

"Yes, but do you mean appropriately as in well or appropriately as in—" your desperate attempt to make a friend seems to be slipping through your fingers. You let out an exasperated sigh, "I know it's only been a few days but, do I treat you well, Iassa?"

She takes a moment and smiles up at you, "My lady has been most gracious." You see in her eyes she means it.

"You were right about the na-Baron," you say, "he is formidable indeed."

"I'm pleased my lady was impressed," she wraps a robe around you as you rise from the bath.

"Well, I don't know about impressed," you say as you step out, "he is a decent fighter, certainly. Perhaps it is a difference in the fighting styles of our worlds."

After helping you dress, Iassa bows and leaves you to retire. Her grey robes flowing behind her.

Once alone, you find your father's dagger in your belongings. The Baron's earlier question comes back to you. Is that what you want? To marry Fayd-Rautha? That night, you sleep clutching the knife close to your heart.

When you awake the following morning, you are greeted by a servant girl bringing you breakfast.

"Where is Iassa?" you ask.

"She has been relieved, my lady," the girl looks even younger than Iassa, "I am Zora."

Your brow furrows, "What does that mean, 'relieved'?"

When Zora remains silent, you get up from the bed.

On the dark grey of your vanity, you notice a black strip of leather. A choker identical to your new servant's but it was unmistakable who it belonged to. Your mind ran through the whys and your blood began to boil.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #atreides reader #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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wingedjellyfishflight · 4 months

Text

Hogtied: Part 1

König comes back with the 141 hogtied and bound to the netting of the C-140. When you first meet him, he is fighting his restraints in a hospital bed. He is trying to avoid the removal of his mask, and you are moved by his struggle. You stop and make everyone step back several feet despite their protests.

"I am a doctor, König. I need to check you for injuries. I know you are a prisoner, but I want to make sure you aren't going to die on me, ok?" He looks away from you stubbornly. You move closer, his eyes snapping to you as you reach his side. Leaning down near his ear and ignoring the warnings of the others in the room, you whisper, "Would you prefer privacy? If you promise to hold still for me and cooperate, I will send them out."

"You will not trick me. I know you can not do this. I could easily kill you silently and escape." You shrug and meet his eyes, a challenge in yours. His eyes widen, pupils dilating in surprise. He nods slowly.

You turn and firmly say, "Out. Doctor patient confidentiality. Get out, everyone." It is not a surprise when they refuse. You growl and call for orderlies to remove the men, whom they reluctantly follow. All except Ghost, who stands with his arms crossed nearly chest to chest with you. Looking up at him, you beckon him to lean closer. "I don't let anyone watch when you take off your mask, no matter your state. Let him have this, and he will be more likely to cooperate."

His eyes soften a bit as he averts his stare from you. "It isn't safe, lamb."

"Nothing worth doing is, now out." Reluctantly, he walks out but stands with his back in the doorway.

"I won't turn around unless necessary, but I am not shutting the door." You sigh and turn back to König.

"Now, may I take off your restraints?" You ignore the growl from the doorway, focusing on your patient.

"Please. I promise not to harm you or try to escape. I thank you for this." With a nod to acknowledge him, you begin the process of untying him.

"Can you catalog your known injuries for me? No sense wasting time trying to find them if you already know." It's a tactic that works on your most stubborn soldiers as they tend to hate wasted time and the poking and prodding of you searching their body. Not to mention, the control it allows them over what they share with you. König seems no different.

"Bruised and scraped knees, shoulders, chest, and arms. Broken toe, possible broken ribs, concussion most likely with lump on back of head, abdomen, arm and leg cut, and a bruised tailbone."

"Good. That narrows it down to everywhere then." Joking is second nature. Most here want to make light of their injuries, not feel weakened by them. You finish removing the last of the restraints and sit him up slowly on the bed. "Let me know if you begin feeling nauseous. I loathe being puked on. Can you remove your boots and trousers for me, or is that too much?" He grunts, bending down and taking them off. You see the shine of a blade and tap his shoulder, which makes him freeze. "Hand it over, please." Surprising both of you, he does, his hand gripping it for an extra moment before letting go.

"What was that?" Ghost voice floats to you from the door.

You whisper quietly, "Is there anything else I should be concerned about?" He pauses as if to catalog and reaches into a nearly invisible pocket to remove a push knife and hand it to you. You smile and dance over to Ghost, saying, "You're bad at disarming prisoners, that's all." One hand holds the knives up in front of his face while the other braces his shoulder to keep him from turning around. "No, you don't get to turn around. Missed your chance to search him."

When you turn back, König is sitting with his boots sitting on the floor to one side and his pants folded neatly next to him. His fingers are twitching, and he seems to be fighting fidgeting. "Perfect, thank you." You begin digging out supplies and calmly ask Ghost to bring you others. He doesn't budge, but he does get someone else to bring them, including the portable x-ray. Waiting, you guide him to lay back.

"Ok, I'm going to flush and then bandage these scrapes up since they are pretty severe, then I will check out that cut on your thigh. Once the machine is here, I'm going to cut off your shirt, sorry, and take some images to check those ribs." He nods, and you take that as your cue to shut up and start working. Aside from the occasional hiss of pain, he says nothing, and to fill the silence, you start humming an old song.

Ghost announces the arrival of your supplies a few minutes later, before you have gotten to the cut. Those scrapes had more rocks in them than you expected. You slip off your bloodied gloves and push Ghost gently so you can get the cart past him. He moves back into place as soon as he can, blocking any curious stares. "Thanks, Ghost. Now we can really get cooking." You notice his hand reach up to press against his side. "Ghost... what is wrong with your side?"

"Nothin, back to work, luv."

"I am working when I ask you that. Now, what is wrong with your side?"

"The rabid dog back there got a kick to me ribs. No big deal."

"Hmm... I don't believe you. You're up next after König. Pick which room you want to take your clothes off in."

"Your bedroom an option, luv?" You laugh as you turn to inspect the cut on König's thigh.

"Not a chance. You know I don't date or fuck coworkers." Setting up the towels around the cut, you flush the wound, mouthing sorry when he flinches and bites back a groan.

"Worth a try. You're always worth a try." You gently dry the wound and begin numbing around it.

"Little pinch here. Whatever, Loverboy." Pulling out your scissors, you cut off König's shirt carefully, avoiding touching his mask. "Let's check that abdominal wound while that one numbs up since it will need stitched." This one is more superficial, and you use butterfly sutures to tape it up after cleaning it. Your humming is back in full force now. Checking the arm and seeing that it doesn't need much of anything either, you do the same to it. It takes fifteen stitches to close the thigh wound, and it takes a lot more willpower than you expected not to stare at the bulge in his pants.

Pulling back, you take a moment to refocus before setting up the x-ray. "Ok, laddie buck, turn a bit, just like that, perfect. And 1... 2... 3... Now, lay back perfectly flat, bit more on that left side. I know it hurts. Ok, 1... 2... 3... Done." Pulling out the films, you hand them to Ghost to hand off. You quickly buddy bandage up the broken toes on his left foot, then meet his eyes carefully. "I need to inspect that head wound. I put it off as long as possible, but I really do need to check it."

König refuses to respond, trying to avoid your eyes. You simply wait, refusing to take back the request or push him. Finally, you hear him sigh. "Ja, you may look." He keeps his eyes averted as you gently begin to lift the fabric. Ghost clears his throat at the door, startling you.

"Not to interrupt doc, but here are the x-rays." You pull your hands back, one hand sliding down to squeeze his shoulder lightly in a comforting gesture before grabbing the films that Ghost is holding behind his back for you. You slide them into the lightbox and look carefully.

"You're in luck, no full breaks with loose pieces. Just bruising here and here and a crack here. Looks like they've been through the ringer, though, eh?" The warm chuckle, then groan of pain makes you smile briefly.

"Yes, I am not nice to them."

"As long as you are nice to them for a bit, they should heal up just fine. If you sit up, I will put a bandage on them to help stabilize things. Then we can see to that head. I haven't forgotten it."

He sits up slowly, his size dwarfing you again. He even lifts his arms so you can easily bandage his torso, clearly used to the procedure. You realize that to inspect his head, he will have to lower it slightly, and you will need to stand between his legs as this room doesn't have a stool or other support. Your face flushes as his thighs rest on each side of yours, and you avoid looking in his eyes as you remove his mask, well aware of how intimate taking off the mask can be for your men.

"So, what made you join KorTac? Normally, I would ask why you joined us, but that clearly wasn't voluntary," you joke, trying to ease the tension as you prod and poke along his scalp. A hand reaches up to guide yours to the bump.

"I wanted to be a sniper," he whispers. "Too big, so now I work hands on." You see his free hand clench as your fingers brush against the knot.

"Ahh, I wanted to be an explosives expert as a kid. But my parents were determined to make me a doctor so I could care for them in their old age. Jokes on them, I picked the job where I could work with explosives experts since I couldn't be one. Doesn't provide the lifestyle they were hoping for," you whisper back. You chuckle thinking back to the look on their face when you revealed the job offer you had accepted. It felt so good to rebel against their wishes after so many years of cowing to their demands.

"Anyway, the bump is a bump. You don't seem to have a concussion, luckily. It'll take a bit, but the swelling will dissipate with time. Now, do I need to look at your tailbone, or is it just sore?" You back out of his legs and watch him replace his mask silently.

"Sore, don't need a pretty girl staring at my ass today." You laugh and gesture for him to put his trousers on before realizing they are soaked in blood from his cut. He sees the same thing, and you can tell he is grimacing under his mask.

"Ghost, luv?" You can feel him tensing at your voice from across the room. "Could you be a doll and get some new clothes for König? Maybe some track bottoms and a shirt would fit?"

"No."

"Yes. Or I will ensure that I lose the set and the mask I keep locked up here for you. I'm not sending anyone out of here unclothed today." He grumbles, but you see he already has his phone out texting. "Thank you, luv."

It takes almost ten minutes for clothes to be found that might fit the giant of a man, and you use that time to finish your notes on König's new file, asking him an occasional question. Most he refuses to answer, some he whispers, and a few sound like he is bragging with how loudly he answers. The clothes barely fit, the track bottoms outlining the entirety of his assets and the shirt looking like it will rip at the seams at any moment. Having noted the size they were, you put in a digital request for an even larger set to be delivered asap.

Finally, you tap Ghost on the shoulder and tell him to pass König off to someone. "Why? I'm going to escort him myself."

"No, now it is your turn. I don't know why you men always think I will forget an injury."

"It isn't that bad, doc, I swe-fuck!" In frustration, you push two fingers on the spot he had been babying, making him blanch and jerk away.

"If you want to escort him, then you'll lift up your shirt and let me check it right now. I'm not going to let you leave without at least a visual and palpitation. I should make your stubborn ass lay down for an x-ray check." He yanks off his vest and tugs the shirt up, irritation bleeding into his movements.

"Hmm... ok. Yes, it seems you'll live, unfortunately. Do you want it bound? I'm going to bind it. Sit next to König, please."

"What?! I'm not sitting next to a prisoner!"

"Why not? He's been more polite to me than you. He's a good patient, doesn't fight his doctor, no stray punches, nothing."

"That was one time, and it was an accident." He sits heavily on the furthest point away from König that he can, grumpily holding his shirt up. You quickly bind his torso, ignoring his complaints.

"There, now you do need to come back later so I can see to the cut on your calf." He tries to play dumb.

"Hmm? There's no cut on my calf."

"You bled on my floor, Ghost." His eyes dart to the doorway, and he drops his head, realizing that you are right. "Now, out both of you. I will send these pants to the wash for you, König."

Seeing them out the door, you watch as others converge on the pair. König walks amiably with them, seemingly decided not to give anyone grief. You log Ghost's injuries just before the end of your shift and flag his calf as needing care by the end of the next shift. Tired, you head to the canteen for dinner or breakfast in the case of normal people.

It's a week later when König is escorted back to medical for a re-check. You're surprised to see him, but push the slightly giddy feeling down to maintain a professional demeanor. "You're still with us, then, friend?"

"Yes." You fall silent as you check him over. "No song today?"

"Huh?" It takes a moment for your brain to change gears. "I guess not. My co-workers complained." Focusing again, you try not to react to his direct stare as you prod his scalp.

"I enjoyed it." You see his skin redden around his eyes as he blushes.

"Thank you. Can you slide down your trousers for me?" From the door, you hear Soap, "all you had to do was ask, Chridhe."

"Get yirsel tae fuck, Soap."

"Awww... I ken ye loue me, hen. Ye dinnae ken it yet."

From outside the room, you hear Ghost yell, "Speak English ya fuckin heathen!" You glance up at König and roll your eyes, making him chuckle quietly. Finishing up with the stitch removal and your examination, you pat his shoulder.

"You won't need to see me for these again." You pause and rest your hand there. "I'll miss my best patient, though."

"I will have to get hurt to see you again, ja?"

"I don't want to see you hurt, König. I suppose that is one bonus of joining our side, meals with all the pretty ladies on base in the mess," you joke. He chuckles, and you smile back as you send him on his way. It's not until you update his file at the end of your shift that you realize he is now classified as a friendly instead of an enemy combatant. You sit dumbfounded, staring at it for much too long. He switched sides. It was changed this afternoon, you notice blankly. Did he change because of what you said, or were you just behind the news?

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #konig cod #simon ghost riley

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your-honor-im-zesty · 9 days

Text

what do i deserve, really? part 2

Will never particularly liked the fact that he was a healer.

Oh, he was good at it. At the risk of sounding arrogant, he was extraordinarily skilled- healing came to him easily, like water floated within a stream. He could mend a broken arm or hum healing hymns as easy as breathing in fresh air or smiling in the sunshine.

But he didn't like it.

Growing up, he was surrounded by legendary warriors and fighters. Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Clarisse La Rue- just to name a few. Even his siblings- Lee, Michael, Austin, Kayla- were incredibly skilled, especially in archery.

But Will? He was a healer. Not a fighter. His "weapons" were gloves and medicine- while others wielded knives and swords, he wielded needles and stethoscopes. While others were entangled within duels, he was performing surgery.

Theoretically, it wasn't a bad job. He saved lives, helped people. Many expressed their gratitude after that- they thanked him for being there, for being so quick and clever. And he was aware of that. But still, Will couldn't help but resent it. In a group of combatants, he was the only medic.

People told him he was lucky- being off the field meant he was safe, for the most part. The worst thing that could happen to him was catching a contagious disease, or accidentally stabbing himself with a scalpel. But that was precisely why Will hated it so much.

Safety. It made him feel guilty, like a fraud. While people were out there, fighting, risking their lives to save the world- he was confined within the infirmary, perhaps suturing wounds or healing cuts. His hardships- sleepless night, excessive stress, the crippling guilt when death struck too mercilessly- were nothing compared to theirs: nightmares, long-lasting injuries, PTSD. And Will was painfully aware of this.

Nico, he knew, was a well-respected hero. He had traveled within the depths of Tartarus twice, had fought fiercely in both the Titan and Giant War, had helped deliver the Athena Parthenon- and not to mention, he was the son of the god of death. He could raise the dead and travel through shadows and talk to ghosts- he was absolutely legendary. He was one of the strongest people Will had ever met- not just physically, but mentally, too. Not many people could do all that while dealing with grief for their sister's death and manage to emerge triumphant, sanity intact.

Which was why Will couldn't, for the love of the gods, understand what Nico was doing with him, of all people.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well?" Hades prompted. He was staring intensely at Will, as was Persephone, who now looked mildly interested. Across the table, Nico was stiff as a board, eyes narrowed at his father. He looked confused, angry, and perhaps a little...touched?

Will stammered a little. "I don't know," he said, more honestly than he'd expected. Nico's eyes snapped to him, surprised. "I really don't know, sir."

Persephone made a soft, tittering noise; Nico looked at her sharply. "That's enough," he snapped, rising from his chair and glaring at Hades. "Father, you promised-"

"I promised I wouldn't hurt him," said Hades coolly, without taking his eyes off Will.

Well, fuck. This was what the god of the Underworld's shovel talk looked like.

Maybe it was his face, or maybe she was starting to grow bored, but Persephone took pity on him. "Enough, darling," she said. "Leave the boy be." To Will's surprise, Hades leaned back and shrugged.

"If you insist, my dear," he replied, stabbing a fork into his chocolate cake. Will didn't like the triumphant look in his eyes, like he'd just proved some sort of point.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apparently, Nico didn't like it either.

He cornered Will a few days later, in the infirmary. The blond was too busy stripping off his gloves and running his hands under cold water (he'd just finished a surgery on an Aphrodite camper's chest) that he didn't even notice Nico until his boyfriend was right behind him, breathing in his ear.

"You've been avoiding me."

Will jumped a foot, swearing loudly. He instantly regretted it when a seven year old Hermes girl peered over her shoulder from where she was propped up in a bed. Fuck, he was becoming a bad influence.

"What're you doing here?" he hissed, spinning around. He deliberately pretended not to have heard the previous statement. "It's fucking eleven at night."

"Could ask you the same thing," said Nico coolly. He studied Will, those dark eyes unnervingly like his father's. Then, in a far more hesitant tone, "Did...something happen? Is this about the dinner?"

Yes. Yes it is.

Ever since the dinner, Will had felt...off-kilter. He had always felt shitty about himself, but hearing those words from Hades had unlocked a new level of loathing. It was one thing to internalize it, and another for someone to point out that hey, you kinda suck. He was much more used to subtle insults- whispers behind his back, knowing looks exchanged right in front of him, eye-rolls or subtle barbs about his status as a healer. But being asked outright...

"I don't know what you're talking about," Will lied. He grabbed a towel and dried his hands. "I've just been busy lately- the infirmary's filling up really quick, now that kids are back for summer break." It should be shameful, how quickly the lie came to him- his father was the god of truth, and yet Will was an excellent actor. He could hide his feelings as easily as he healed people.

Nico's brows furrowed; he looked uncertain. Oh, shit- Will had forgotten his boyfriend had trust issues. He felt a surge of guilt, and remembered something Michael had once told him: lying will always come back to bite you in the ass, especially if it's to someone you love. (Granted, Lee had chided him after for swearing in front of 10 year old Will, but that wasn't relevant)

"I'm sorry," said Nico. He looked guilty now, which was infuriating because he had done absolutely nothing wrong. "My father...he and I haven't always been on the best terms, and I think it's just his way of caring for me. He hasn't been a father in years."

Oh- that's right. Will had forgotten that Hades was the only one to actually follow the Big Three Pact. He winced internally, but willed his voice to sound cheery. Peppy. "Yeah, no, I get that. Apollo isn't the most perfect dad either, but it's nice that he tries, you know?"

Nico looked at him a little suspiciously; had he sounded too happy? Maybe it was because Nico himself lied plenty of times about his own well-being. Like calls to like. A liar recognizes another.

"You should go," said Will quickly; he wasn't sure he would be able to withstand an interrogation. Wrapping an arm around Nico, he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "You need your sleep, Ghost Boy."

Nico relaxed slightly and gave a thin, wan smile. "So do you, Solace."

"I'll wrap up in half an hour," Will fibbed, withdrawing his arm. He still had at least five patients to attend to, but Nico needn't know that. "Go to sleep, di Angelo- doctor's orders!" he added, inciting a small snort that- stupidly- made his heart swoon. He would never get tired of Nico's laughs.

The dark-haired boy had hardly walked a few steps to the door before he paused and looked back. There was a slight frown upon his face. He looked...concerned. "Will?"

"Yeah?"

"You know...you know what you're worth, right?"

You're certainly not worth him, a nasty voice whispered in his head. You're just a healer, and he's Nico di Angelo.

Thankfully, he was spared from answering Nico's question; there was a loud thump! and he whipped around to see the Hermes seven year old sprawled on the floor, groaning. She waved an angry fist at the window above her bed, where there were faces- of her siblings, no doubt- pressed against, smirking and laughing.

Oh, what the hell? Will thought as he rushed to help her to her feet. He almost didn't notice the soft click of the door that hinted at Nico's departure.

------------------------

ugh ok so this is part 2 its terrible ik i'm not really feeling it lately, idk why lmao...couldn't bring myself to properly edit this shit but so many people liked part 1 i figured why the hell not...may discontinue idk

as a writer i love to make my fictional characters suffer and insert my trauma on them :)

#percy jackson #percy jackson fandom #pjo #pjo fandom #solangelo #solangelo fic #will solace #nico di angelo #will x nico #will centric fic #will angst #ugh fuck writers block

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astr0exe · 29 days

Note

ello ello,could I request some Lester from House of wax?

He doesn't get enough attention for my liking and I feel for such a dirty grimey man he deserves his own gremlin boyfriend.

I was thinking maybe a little bit of angst with smut,Maybe Bo being the-bit of bastard he is,just got done yelling at Lester so he's sad and needs his boyfriend to make him feel loved again.Maybe with knife play(don't have to if it makes you uncomfy) since he has a bunch of knives,they can be put to use aside from road kill or whatever-🙏

If not that's fine,Hope u have a good day or night<3👊✨

Lester is acc my fuckin husband:( i love him so much<3 no angst js needy Les with some knife n blood play, nd pain play :)

// CW : tm!reader , needy Lester , knife play , blood play , dacryphilia (?) , pain play , praise , subspace (??) , aftercare

Lester who basically collapses into you when he gets to your shared home, tired and annoyed from dealing with Bo all day. His rugged hands still stained with blood from roadkill, gripping tightly at your waist as he groans in your ear at how much of a pain today has been for him. “Fuckin shi, to’days been so long sweetheart.” His southern drawl sends shocks through your body even despite how long you have been together.

His lips are aggressive against yours as he whines relieved with the contact he has been craving all day. The hilt of his knife is prominent against your skin whilst he holds you close, the kiss is full of need and lust (As well as a bit of frustration). He can’t help but need you, pushing you onto the tattered leather couch in the living room. His whimpers and huffs are loud against your ear, your hands pulling him close, close enough to suck hickies onto your lovers neck. His pants are down enough to get his cock out, already hard with a red angry tip adorning the large head.

There is no foreplay, no prep. Lester needs you, and fast. So that’s what he does, he takes you. His dick entering you in one swift thrust, his knife now in his hand as the very tip is resting against the underside of your chin. You are all too aware of the cool metal on your skin, especially how deadly it is. Even as your eyes widen and the breath is stolen from you with every thrust of Lester’s hips you remain cautious. His hips don’t falter, if anything the movement becomes more aggressive, more needy. Your moans are loud, as are his, both of you are lost in the pleasure of each other, the knife trailing down your body all the bay to your hip bone and back up again.

Lester’s knife is against your cheek, catching your tears on the blade, your eyes are bleary and unfocused which matches your state of mind, unfocused and lost, floating in the pleasure and fear you are feeling. Your pretty tears set Lester off.. he can’t help it doll:(( you just look so pretty sobbing on his cock. The tip of his hunting knife moves along the skin of your cheek with more force, a tiny speckle of red showing the path of the knife. The blood collects on the blade along with your tears. Your shouts of pleasure and pain are loud and needy, making Lester’s hip pause whilst your drenched cunt clenches on him, he groans seeing your orgasm and fucked out state.

Tears running down your face, blood dripping down your cheek and your whole body shaking, your eyes blissed out as you let the pleasure of your orgasm consume you. Lester groans as he pulls out, his cum spurting all over your stomach as he moans and whines loudly, his orgasm hitting him harshly taking his breath away. You are confused when you regain your senses, your mind still clouded and hazy, wrapped up safe in Lesters arms, a blanket covering you both as he murmurs in your ear “There we are baby boy.. Tha’s a good doll.. Thank you..” his kiss on your temple is light as he holds a cold bottle of water to your lips.

You are softly brought back to your senses fully, Lester guiding you as you both cuddle up on the couch sleepily. You sigh at the attentiveness of your boyfriend, a plaster is already on your cheek and you are hydrated, now all you need is sleep and Lester by your side (same).

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yeoosaangg · 6 months

Text

Insane || Kinktober - Day 17

pairing ▸ park jisung × f!reader

now playing ▸ insane - black gryph0n, baasik

⤷ ❝i promise honey, i can feel your pain. and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit, does that make me insane?❞

genre ▸ demon au, smut

warnings ▸ sadism, dub-con, knife play, restraints, pain kink, degradation, blood kink, death

--------

Jisung was strolling down the streets of Hell like any other day. It feels empty now that Halloween season has come around the corner.

Demons keep getting summoned, which should be a good thing.

But he's frustrated that he hasn't been summoned in 3000 demon years. He's itching to cause mischief amongst the mortal realm, yet he's stuck doing errands for The King.

Taeyong: Cheer up, Jisung. Maybe you'll get summoned this time around.

Jisung: Highly doubt it.

But then he feels the pull in his gut.

Jisung: Um, I think it's already happening?

Taeyong: What are you waiting for? Don't make the human wait!

And just like that, he teleports into someone's bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Y/n: Huh... Didn't think that'd work.

Jisung: You summoned a demon without proper knowledge of it working?

Y/n: Pretty much.

The demon stares at you in disbelief.

Were all humans this dumb?

Jisung: The name's Park Jisung. What can I help you with?

You grin, pointing to your bed filled with knives and sex toys.

Seriously? Again?

Y/n: In exchange for my soul, I want you to fuck me.

Of course you do.

But he doesn't agree right away. He doesn't want to seem desperate.

Jisung: Why would I want your soul in exchange for sex? Do I look like a prostitute?

Y/n: No. But I'm super fucking horny and everyone bashes on my kinks because they're "degrading to women everywhere". So I called you.

He analyzes the things you have on your bed carefully.

You must be a masochist.

Jisung: And having sex with a demon isn't kinky enough? You want to be tied up like a helpless victim while I fuck you in demon form?

Y/n: Yeah.

You are not right in the head, but a deal's a deal. And this isn't the first time someone's asked for this.

Jisung sighs, stripping himself of his clothes.

He raises an eyebrow at you and snaps his fingers to get your attention.

You tilt your head in confusion, but understand what he means when he points down at your dress.

The fabric slides off your shoulders, pooling around your ankles. You're left in nothing but your panties.

He snaps his fingers and all your equipment floats in the air. Even though you know he's powerful, you still get surprised by the sight.

Jisung: You want me to tie you up myself? Or do you want me to make it easier for the both of us?

Y/n: Doesn't matter. Also... Why are you so chill about this?

Jisung: This happens a lot.

Y/n: Don't demons need to know our names in order to take our souls.

Jisung: Obviously.

Y/n: But I haven't told you my name.

Jisung: And you don't have to. It's written on the outside of that laptop behind you.

Indeed it was.

You shrug and climb onto the bed when he hovers over you, literally.

Jisung: Demon form now or work up to it?

Y/n: Work up to it please.

Jisung: Safe word?

Y/n: Didn't think I needed one.

Jisung: I'm a demon, not an asshole.

Y/n: Oh... Then the safe word is Flower.

The ropes magically bind your wrists and ankles very tightly. Jisung looks up and grabs one of the knives floating above his head.

He looks down at you and smirks before carving into your neck. His tongue licks up and down, blood deliciously coating his tongue.

Jisung: Fuck, you taste good.

The bed dips down when he kneels right next to you, carving his intials into your collarbone. He licks the blood there too, moaning at the taste.

He hasn't had a good meal in a few weeks, so this was killing multiple birds with one stone.

You're breathing heavily as he continues carving at your skin, drinking the blood from those areas. He reaches your swollen cunt, glistening pussy begging him to be touched.

Three fingers pump into your cunt, not letting you adjust to his long digits. He works you open, watching you squirm and and moan at being used like this.

Y/n: Gonna cum.

He's knuckles deep into your hole, pumping until his fingers are wet from your slick.

Jisung: This isn't even enough prep for my cock, pet.

You gulp.

He was already big, his demon dick must be monstrous.

Jisung: How do you feel about fisting?

An involuntary moan escapes your lips, making his smug expression even more sinister.

He shoves his three fingers into you again, watching you scream as he works his way to punching his entire fist into your gummy walls.

His entire wrist disappears inside you. You're already shaking when it's barely your second orgasm.

Jisung: How cute. You're already far gone.

That's when he grabs three of your dildos, turning them into one huge monster dildo.

He slowly slides it up and down your folds. You whine at the sensitivity, desperately trying to close your legs. But the movement only makes them magically pull you back in place.

Jisung: Oh, silly Y/n. I'm gonna have my fun with you.

He gives no warning as he shoves the huge dildo into your tight pussy. The stretch has you screaming and crying, your face scrunched in pain.

He snaps his fingers again and watches the dildo fuck itself into you so fast, you'd think it wasn't moving. But you feel it pulling in and out as your cunt begs for a break.

His hands squeeze your breasts painfully, but you still shake in pleasure.

Jisung: Look at you. What happened to the desperate and pathetic little human who wanted to exchange her soul for one night with a demon, hm? Now so nonchalant now, are you?

You don't even answer him, you can't. Not when your orgasm was so intense that you blackout for a second.

You try to catch your breath, but the dildo doesn't stop pumping inside you.

Jisung: God, it's been so long. I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back with you.

Y/n: T-Then don't.

Jisung: It might kill you, human. Then your soul would be automatically mine.

Y/n: I'm okay with that.

Jisung: If you say so.

You gasp when he turns into his demon form.

He was already tall, but now he's nine feet tall, claws coming out of his fingertips, horns adorning the crown of his head, razor sharp fangs, and has an eighteen inch long cock.

You gulp, not thinking this through.

He climbs over you and throws the dildo on the floor. He shoves his cock into you, hips slamming against your ass faster than the dildo.

You can feel him in your guts, maybe even further. Your body was shutting down from the amount of pain and pleasure, going limp against the mattress.

He just rams his monster cock into you until he cums deep into your body, all of it spilling out of you like a drainage pipe.

He pulls out, turning back to his original size.

Your sex toys get placed on your desk, the ropes free you of it's restricting hold.

Your breathing is labored, heartbeat too faint for a healthy human.

It wasn't until your body completely stills and your souls apoears in your hand that he realizes the situation. He just fucked you to your death and now he's got another soul to eat.

Other humans will find you eventually.

Jisung: I did warn her. Oh well!

He snaps his fingers and his clothes are back on his body. He teleports back to Hell, right where he was last seen - even Taeyong's still there.

Taeyong: So, I see you made a deal. Very proud of you.

Jisung: And got a good fuck out if it, too.

Taeyong: Please tell me you didn't fuck a corpse.

Jisung: I'm not a fucking idiot. The deal was to fuck her and I get her soul. Not my fault she croaked.

Taeyong: Right... Well, We've got a meeting with Kun.

Jisung: Why?

Taeyong: Yangyang's missing.

---

a/n: i don't like this ʕ •̥ ˕ ก ʔ thanks for reading anyway ‹𝟹

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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months

Note

also if you would wanna write more jason x older vigilante reader i would be very happy -LB

Jason Todd x older vigilante male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been studying almost nonstop since Monday and I’m so tired, but fuck it we ball, Jason deserves to be loved and cared for by a bigger older man 🗣️🗣️

This is pretty much a part two other Jason x older reader thing I wrote, that you can read here.

This takes place after you two have been dating for a while, meaning Jasons family and the outlaws know. You don’t have any family yourself, as your type of work doesn’t allow family, so there’s no one for you to introduce him too.

After a while you two wouldn’t hang on each other like newlyweds, in public at least. Jason always finds himself in your lap when you are home, especially when you cleaning your guns or polishing your knives. He will whine and pout for you, his daddy, to pay attention to him.

Most days its enough for you to just caress his hair and roll your eyes softly at him, maybe even leaning down and giving him a few kisses as he lays in your lap.

But other days he needs more, biting and bratting until you pull order him to get undressed so he can sit in your lap and warm you as you work. Its always more than enough to calm him down as he sits with his head against your shoulder, almost floating away somewhere else as you give him neck soft kisses and mutter soft praise as you work on your weapons.

You still pamper him, and you find yourself almost puffing out your chest like a proud bird when he so willingly accepts your gifts. In the beginning Jason would be very against being given things, but after a while he starts to enjoy it and always makes sure to show you how much he loves it.

You don’t cover him in useless junk though, all clothes you buy him is specially made for him and is made of bulletproof fabrics and materials, and any jewelry you give him can also be used as weapons or has vials of neurotoxin or other poisons in case he needs it.

You being so protective and always looking out for his safety allows Jason to feel less stressed about his everyday life, as he doesn’t just have to rely on himself anymore, but can also lean on you when he needs it.

Most of his family doesn’t really know how to deal with the fact that Jason is dating a guy the same age as Bruce, or close to the same age at least. Especially if you’ve had run ins with Bruce as Black Demise and put him in the ground.

But since you’ve settled down with Jason, you have focused more on staying in Gotham to be with your lover and assist him in running his empire as the red hood. You don’t even really need to do any mercenary work anymore, since you have more than enough money. You can allow yourself to be picky with contracts, so you only pick the ones targeting the scum of the earth.

When you have to leave on mercenary work, you and Jason always make sure to call when you are able, and you’ll bring him a gift when you get back home again. Most of the time its different weapons from the specific country you’ve gone too, but sometimes its something as normal as a t-shirt, or piece of lingerie you felt would fit him.

Jason doesn’t really act any different to the outside world than he did before. Hes only soft and whiney with you, to everyone else hes as cold and rough as usual. Bad dealers and goons will even claim the Red Hood as gotten even worse since Black Demise showed up.

That’s why everyone in the Gotham underground believes the red hood is the student of Black Demise, as no one assumes you two are dating. It causes the people who know who you are to stay away from crime alley, as they fear what kind of thing you must be teaching Red Hood, since you are known to be crueler than Deathstroke.

You guys keep killing to the minimum though, or at least keep it under wraps. Jason is so impressed when you can get away with murder right under Bruces nose, since you are so good at hiding bodies and evidence. You teach him everything you know.

One of the batfam members that enjoys your presence, is surprisingly Alfred. Hes known about you as Black Demise for years, ever since you started, and he knows you don’t do needless killings. Sure, he isn’t the biggest fan of your work, but he was a secret agent so who is he to judge. Plus, he hasn’t seen Jason this happy in years.

Your presence also makes Jason feel more sure to go to family get togethers at the manor, as long as you can come. He acts all tough, but you know part of Jason is scared of being alone with his family, and the insecurity it creates inside him.

That’s another reason Alfred is happy to have you, since you get Jason to actually attend family dinners and holidays. Since you don’t have any family, you are able to convince Jason to go “for your sake”, since you wanna experience holidays or family time.

The batfam are uncomfortable in the beginning, but Cass sees that you mean no harm and that you absolutely love Jason, so she warms up pretty fast. Dick already knows you from his time with Deathstroke. Tim would know about you from all his deep research he does, and would be cautious, but like the others he sees Jason is happy, so he won’t judge.

Damian would want to battle you, or would not trust you further than he could throw you for a while. Hes heard about how powerful and cruel you can be from the league of assassins, but at some point, you two end up bonding over shared interests, and he begrudgingly accepts you.

The rest of the batfam would grow warmer to you over time as they see how healthy Jason actually looks with you, and how you clearly love him back just as much. It doesn’t stop some of them from making sugar daddy jokes at Jason, or joking about the age gap, but you just let it roll of your back and find it cute when Jason gets annoyed.

At this point Bruce will have to begrudgingly accept your relationship, even though he’s not the biggest fan, mainly because of your insanely high kill count. But he gets reminded about his own exes and dating history by the rest of the fam, so there isn’t much he can say.

You two come to an understanding that you make Jason happy, so as long as you don’t start killing innocents for money, you two will have a truce. You two probably end up bonding over whatever men your age are into at some point, but you both will deny it.

Somehow dating you helped Jason become closer to his family, who’d have thought getting a sugar daddy boyfriend would bring that, but you did. Congrats.

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kittyamore0 · 1 year

Text

Slashers with a Vampire S/O:

[PART II]

CW: Biting, marking, breaking of skin, blood, slightly dom, immortal, GN! reader, blood kink and drinking blood

LITTLE NOTE I: Im in a slightly good mood and i wanted to write another character even though they aren't a slasher, but as a bonus!

LITTLE NOTE II: I've been up since 3AM working on this and then other things. Its currently 9AM and im having crucial back pain

BONUS: extra character

EXTRA CHARACTER: Violet Harmon

MAIN CHARACTERS: Stu Macher + Billy Loomis, Carrie White, Freddy Kruger, Tate Langdon, Bubba sawyer, GENRE: Headcanons

Fandom: Horror

STU MACHER + BILLY LOOMIS

Stu wouldn't believe you at first.

Billy tends to stalk you from time to time, so i think he would know

You also know that your loving, killer boyfriend stalks you

So you also know that he knew.

"Uh, Sweetie, you do realize its not Halloween yet, right?"

You scoffed and flashed your fangs at Stu and Billy

"Might be fake-"

"Bitch, please!"

Stu playfully rolled his eyes and smiled

Suddenly, you ran past him

But way too quickly

"Wait-- What the fuck?--"

Billy just snickered at him

"What are you laughing about?"

Stu narrowed his eyes

"Ive been knowing, you fuck-rag."

Stu did in fact realize you were not lying.

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"They just did,"

"You--"

"Enough."

Stu kept whining the whole week after that

He would ask stupid questions

Like Tif, he would watch Vamp movies with you

He will let you bite him just to feel how it feels

Sometimes it'll go well with Stu, sometimes it wont...

He needs like 20 years to recover from that bite

And other times, he feels like hes floating

"I feel high! Is this what you felt when they bit you, Bil?"

"No, i felt horny."

...

"Wait, wha--"

Now, with Billy

He loved it when you bit him

He has a major blood kink

You marking him, blood seeping down his neck as you drink from him.

He also loves looking into your crimson eyes

He thinks your eyes are really pretty, but he wont admit that

Maybe if you manage to bribe him

He does know that he can actually die if he lets you drink as much blood, so it only happens once awhile

He will bring you back some victims as ghostface though!

Be prepared for loving phone calls from your loving boyfriends telling you how much people they've killed

CARRIE WHITE

She did believe you, but it took her some time to process stuff

I mean, she's got powers. Why wouldn't she believe you?

She sometimes thinks about how her mom would react

Her mom would be absolutely pissed

But she doesn't care

she's not letting you go anytime soon

And she doesn't plan too

You don't drink from her because her body is already fragile enough

She never brought up that idea either

I mean, she has thought about it, but she knows that you would refuse instantly due to both her physical and mental health

She would let you drink from her, if it meant saving you in some kind of way

She doesn't ask too many questions about it and treats you like any normal person, but with extra and special attention since you're her S/O!

When shes upset, her powers get out of control and she has flung knives at you...maybe more than one.

But she really didn't mean to!

She can't control it!

She freaks out when one of the knives at you, dropping her upset mood

Then you have to reassure her that you're immortal, so it wont affect you as much

"Carrie, sweetie, im okay--"

"I-it wa-was in your th-throat!"

"Again, not like im dying--"

She was so upset the first time it happened

She tried running away and locking herself inside her room, but you were much stronger than her, so you held her close until she was calm

"Shh...its okay, its okay."

"i--im-im sorry, im sorry..."

Poor baby :(

But you will pamper her after shes calm down

FREDDY KRUGER

Hes gonna believe you, since you know, hes a dead, burned, sleep demon--

But he wants proof

Crimson eyes or bright changing eye colors? check.

Sharp fangs that can hide themselves? Check.

Blood lust?

You tried biting him the first time you guys met and he caught you eating more than one person in your dreams.

So yea, Check.

He makes dirty jokes about your powers

Speed?

He'll say something along the lines of..."Well, lets see your pace in the bedroom--"

You start fist fighting him every time he does say something like that

But sometimes you'll play along with his little flirting game

And the second you do, theres a thick lump in those worn out pants of his

The next thing you know, you wake up naked

Oh, and because of that supernatural crazy stuff,

You find a way to see the demon through the day instead of night now!

Through spells though

But as long as you're seeing him!

TATE LANGDON

Hes known way before you've met him, and thats because hes known you longer than you've known he existed

When he did reveal himself, like his true self, which is being dead, you realized about him knowing about your little secret

And the other ghost in the house

yay.

I mean, you were planning to tell your boyfriend Tate that you were a Vamp, but he knew

So that spares you the explanation and proving

You were just glad he knew

Tate, i feel like when he tells you that he knows, he'll compliment you.

How he loved the way your eyes would change color

How he loved your powers

And how he loved you, most of all, all of you.

All the confessing would definitely lead to a passion make out, and maybe even further

And dont tell me 'no'. This shit would be like a telenovela, but it got to the part that they are confessing

And im listening to 'or nah' by The Weeknd right now, it's a sign.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He would treat you like his normal S/O, not caring about the fact you are a human-blood-drinking creature.

He would suggest you be a vampire for Halloween, since you know, you're already one...

"Haha, so funny. I'm not gonna wear those weird human versions of vampire cloaks!"

"C'mon, it'll be funny!"

"Okay, how about this; You wear those ghost costumes, the ones where theres just holes where the eyes are and ill dress in one of those weird vampire cloaks."

"No, not in a million years!"

"It's either we wait a million years then, or you wont ever get to see me in that vampire cloak~"

"Okay, you win!"

"So, deal then?"

"Deal."

Whenever you have your blood lust, he'll offer up his cold flesh for you to bite through and let his bitter sweet blood soak out

But in the end, you can't.

Dead blood in fact makes Vampires very ill

And though it saddens him that he cant help you, he'll understand.

He wont let you drink his blood.

No matter how much pain you're in.

He can't risk putting you in even more pain

So he mostly goes invisible when you have your blood lust

And he waits in the corner of your room for you to come back from hunting your meal

Calm cuddles after your blood lust while listening to Nirvana

He absolutely loves that you are immortal

You can stay with him, forever.

Forever and ever. With him, and only him.

VIOLET HARMON -- THE BONUS

Violet has also known, like Tate because she has been watching you.

You also knew she was a ghost in the house from the day she came up to you

How? When words about the infamous 'murder house' were being spread, so did the word Violet

And you might of seen a picture or two of her when people would talk about the murder house

She kinda has no choice either

She also was really interested in you when you moved into the house

She was obviously shocked when she found out you were a vampire

She did not expect that at all

I mean, she grew up knowing that vampires didn't exist

And yet, here you are

before you guys started dating she was the classic-

sorta stare and not talk

Only because you're a vampire and she doesn't wanna trigger anything--

Okay...shes was nervous.

She has a literal crush on a hot vampire who is living in the house she died in!

okay, the 'died in' part is uh, just not needed

And she did really want to talk to you, she just needed a push

Tate.

"Okay, Vi, you got this..."

She took a deep breath

"shit, never mind. i don't got this--"

"You do."

She yelped when the familiar voice had appeared from behind her.

"Tate...?"

"yea, sorry. I just wanted to say that, uh, you should go for it. Its now or never. They might be a inmortal , but they wont stay here for long without, um, value? So, uh, go for it."

He flashes Violet a small smile before walking way

"Thanks..." She mumbled and continued to stare at your figure

fuck it.

"Uh, h-hi,"

Her heart felt like it was about to pop tf out her chest

Wait, it dont beat no more.

But still felt like it

You felt like you were trippin'

Are you actually talking to a cute, dead girl right now?

Yes. Yes you were.

"Hi, Violet."

She froze up.

How the hell.

Did one of the ghosts tell you?

What.

"How did you--"

"Oh, it was easy. A lot of people talk about this house, and you."

oh, right.

Well, shit.

"What, cat got your tongue?"

Yes.

"N--no, im fine--"

You just chuckled at her

Why in the hell were you so calm???

"Do you wanna talk a little? im sure you didn't call me just to call me."

"Yes! i mean--sure!"

You guys hung out the rest of the night and it was amazing.

She found out things about you

You found out things about her

A win-win!

She'd hate when you have your blood lust

Because 1. You're scary as hell

2. She hates seeing you in pain

3. There's no blood available for you in the house because its all dead blood, we dont want you to be sick

4. She hates waiting long for you to come home

Long naps with you after you got back from hunting

BUBBA SAWYER

You told Bubba from the start of the relationship!

I mean, why not tell your cannibal boyfriend that you, are in fact, a blood thirsty vampire

At first, he was confused

A vampire in texas...?

A real, REAL vampire.

Complusion to make him less confused

Oh, now he gets it!

Wonder why...

He'll still love you

Vampire or not

constant babbling about how he loves your crimson eyes

HATES it when you have your blood lust

He hates seeing you in pain

Tries feeding you his victims

Gets even more upset when you tell him you can't have dead blood

Hes on his way to find some more victims

You can count on him!

He'll come back with 2-5 victims

Maybe even more if there was some event going on nearby

He'll sit you on his lap and cuddle with you till' you feel better

He coos at you but you have absolutely no idea on what he's saying!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

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